


Ocean Eyes

by Jellyfish_Tacos



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Aftermath of Torture, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Altin, Cursed, Fairy, Fluff, Folklore, Gay, King - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Melisande - Freeform, Otabek - Freeform, Otaburi, Plisetsky - Freeform, Princess - Freeform, Rapunzel Elements, Russian Mythology, Sleeping Beauty Elements, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide contemplation, Sweet, Violence, Yuri, faerie - Freeform, fairytale, nikolai - Freeform, otayuri - Freeform, prince - Freeform, rapunzel - Freeform, sap, yurabek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9804122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellyfish_Tacos/pseuds/Jellyfish_Tacos
Summary: Prince Yuri had a curse placed on him when he was a baby. When he grows up, a wish intended to fix the curse goes awry, making the problem even worse. Eligible princesses come from far and wide to try and offer a solution in hopes of winning the prince's hand, but nothing works. Besides, Yuri only has eyes for the mysterious stranger that visits the royal gardens every night.





	1. Turquoise

When Prince Yuri was born, he seemed to light up the whole world with his radiance. He would smile and laugh, his sea-green eyes sparkling in joy, and the happiness seemed to be contagious in how it spread to the people around him. The child had beautiful golden hair that surrounded his head like a halo, conjuring up images of sunlight and the warm summer months. 

 

The baby’s mother, the crown princess, wanted to host a christening party for him. Her father, King Nikolai, was adamantly opposed to this proposition.  
“Christening parties all too often cause more trouble than they're worth,” he warned. “No matter how carefully you plan and review your guest list, some spirit or another always ends up not getting invited, and you know how that turns out. Recall what happened to your nephew?” His daughter sniffed haughtily and turned up her nose. No, she had not forgotten what had happened to Viktor. In fact, she would have liked to disremember the whole ordeal, but found it rather impossible. 

 

“Of course I haven't,” she griped. “The whole kingdom slept for a hundred years!” Her father gave her a pointed look, and she huffed. “I suppose you're right,” she admitted reluctantly.  
“Well then, I can be his godfather and you can be his godmother, and that will be all. We won't invite any faeriekind, and then none of them can be offended,” Nikolai asserted.  
“Unless they all are,” the crown princess muttered. 

 

Alas, she was correct. When the baby, his mother, and his grandfather returned from the christening ceremony, a frantic-looking maid ran up to them at the door. She straightened her cap and brushed off her apron to appear presentable, then bowed her head and announced, “My lady, some persons have called upon you. I informed them that you were not presently home, and they said that they would wait.”  
“Are they in the parlor?” the crown princess questioned.  
“Ah, no ma’am, I have shown them into the throne room. You see, there are several of them.” 

 

There were several of them all right. Several hundred. They barely fit in the throne room, threatening to make it burst at its high, domed ceiling and stained glass window-embedded walls. There were the mavka, with their flower-woven long hair shrouding their naked forms; when they weren't facing you, one could see their organs because they were missing their backs. Then there were the rusalka, dripping with water and draped with aquatic plants, skin as sickly pale as a corpse. Scattered here and there were vodyanoy, their throats swelling and relaxing as they ribbeted obnoxiously. Algae and dark scales covered their nude bodies; matted, twisted beards doing little for modesty. Near the back of the group was Nocnitsa, her sunken-in face obscured by a large hood and eyes glowing yellow underneath it. 

 

When the crown princess pulled opened the door, she was greeted by nearly simultaneous cries of,  
“Why didn't you invite us to your christening party?”  
“We didn't have a party,” she announced matter-of-factly, then turned to her father. “I told you so,” she hissed furiously.  
“But you've had a christening,” one of the rusalka argued indignantly. 

 

The sea of creatures parted, and Nocnitsa floated through them until she was standing in front of the new mother, who was clutching baby Yuri close, scared. Nocnitsa was the spirit that haunted the nightmares of children from the shadows. She had been left out of more christening parties than all of the other nymphs combined, and with good reason. Just being in her presence sent shivers down the crown princess’ spine. The spirit raised her arm and pointed a single gnarled finger at her.  
“By not inviting me, you have disrespected me!” she screeched, wraith-like. The whispering crowd fell silent immediately, fearful of Nocnitsa’s wrath being turned upon them. Additionally, they were curious to see what would happen next, enthralled by the scene playing out before them. 

 

Nocnitsa edged closer menacingly, and the crown princess was petrified in terror. She could see the nymph’s wild, yellow, owl-like eyes and smell the musty scent of dirt and moss clinging to her.  
“Do you know what happens when faeriefolk get left out of christening parties?” The question wasn't intended to be answered, and hung threateningly in the air. Nocnitsa cackled hoarsely and continued. “The child gets cursed! Now, since I am the most powerful of the spirits here today, I will go first.” She stretched out her hand and pulled down the swaddle Yuri was wrapped in to get a better look at his face. The babe started crying when he saw her, red-faced. “What pretty hair,” she cooed. “The prince shall be bald!” she declared cruelly, then whirled around and vanished in a flash of darkness. 

 

The rusalka who had spoken up earlier ran up.  
“I'm next!” she announced, a malicious glint in her black eyes, her hair slapping wetly against her back when she tossed it. “The prince shall be-” King Nikolai rushed forwards and clamped a hand over her mouth before she could finish her sentence.  
“Now see here,” he rebuked sternly. “I will not have this.” The nymph glared at him, rage burning in her expression. The king was quite unfazed, and turned to face the mob. 

 

“I am surprised at all of you. Surely you know your own history?” There was no response. He sighed, shaking his head. “Listen to me, for your own sake. You must be aware that when a spirit breaks tradition, they go out like a candle flame doused by water. And according to tradition, only one faerie is ever neglected to be invited to a christening party, and only that one faerie places a curse on the child. Therefore, if more than one of you casts a hex on the prince, then you will surely perish.” A murmur swept through the multitude like a ripple as the fae wondered if this could be true. 

 

“Come and try it if you don't believe me. Give horrible gifts to this innocent child, but as soon as you do I guarantee that you will be extinguished like a fire. Would any of you like to take the risk?” Nikolai challenged, releasing his hand from the rusalka’s mouth. None of the spirits uttered a word. One by one, the nymphs began filing out of the throne room. They left behind twigs, mud, moss, river weeds, and pond water strewn about the marble tile. Some of them thanked the crown princess on what a delightful visit it had been, but insisted that they had other engagements and must be on their way. 

 

“It's really been quite lovely to see you,” the rusalka who had been on the brink of cursing the prince complimented, curtseying. “Please ask us to come and call upon you and the dear baby soon.” She then left, her long, dark hair trailing on the floor behind her. When all the fae had gone, the royals both let out a breath that they hadn't known they'd been holding. 

 

The crown princess gasped, remembering the spell placed on Yuri, and tore away the blanket that was covering the baby’s head. Downy, soft golden locks came with it, and the child was left with no hair remaining on his scalp. He looked up at her and giggled, smiling wide.  
“He's hideous now!” his mother wailed. Disgusted by his daughter’s words, the king took Yuri into his arms. The baby laughed in glee and babbled, reaching up his stubby little arms towards his grandfather’s face. His irises were like polished turquoise, and Nikolai could see his reflection in them. Protectiveness swelled in his heart. No harm would come to this child. 

 

“What will we do?” the crown princess lamented, wringing her hands. “No princess will want to marry him now!” The king narrowed his eyes as he heard this.  
“Calm down,” he commanded gruffly. His daughter inhaled a quick breath, as if she’d had an epiphany.  
“Wait!” she exclaimed hopefully. “You still have that wish, correct? That you got as a wedding present when you married mother and never used?”  
“Yes,” Nikolai replied warily. He did not like the idea that the crown princess was about to propose.  
“Well then, go get it and we can wish for Yuri to have hair.”  
“No. I don't think that that is a wise use of a wish. It is rather selfish.” His daughter looked annoyed and deflated. “However,” her face perked up as he continued, “I will keep it until Yuri grows up, and then I'll give it to him and he can decide for himself what he wants to use it for.” Bitterly resigned, the crown princess agreed.  
“Very well.” She looked at her tiny baby with newfound contempt, and it seemed like all the light and compassion she had had before was almost completely drained out of her. 

 

Nikolai sighed, disappointed that his daughter could be so shallow. She strutted off, head held high and not asking for him to return the child to her. The king was left there in the empty throne room, holding Yuuri gently and wondering what was in store for the little prince.


	2. Aquamarine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri's mother makes a foolish wish to try and break his curse.

Prince Yuri Plisetsky grew up the most lovely creature under the sun, seeming to become more beautiful with every passing day. His slender form seemed have grace in every movement without him even realizing that he was doing it. He had the most expressive aquamarine eyes, large and as endless as the sea. The curse didn't go away on its own however; his hair did not return. 

His mother forced him to wear scarves and hoods to cover his head at all times, so as not to “appear unsightly.” He despised them. It was apparent that the only resident of the castle that was uncomfortable with his baldness was his mother. Ever since he was little, she was a distant figure. As a child he used strive to impress her. He'd bring her little gifts and try his hardest in his dancing lessons in a futile attempt to gain her affections. He soon learned that it was all in vain. The crown princess was disinterested in being involved in her son’s life in any way. The only time he really saw her was at dinner, when hardly a word was spoken. The atmosphere was always tense and heavy with silence as they ate. 

Over time, Yuri grew bitter. It didn't take long for him to deduce that having no hair was the reason that she kept a distance from him. Her own child. On the inside, the prince was sensitive and neglected. On the outside, he used a viper tongue, harsh tone and an uncaring attitude. The only person that truly made him happy was his grandfather. The king supported him and did his best to be a replacement for his parents. (His father had died before he was even born.) Yuri was very fond of Nikolai. Whenever they were together, he found himself genuinely smiling and laughing, his prickly exterior melting away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Soon, the prince reached his eighteenth year, and his mother began pestering the king for the wish.  
“Yuri is old enough now to decide what he wants. Give him the wish!” she begged eagerly. Nikolai agreed hesitantly, but wanted to make sure that it was alright to offer the wish to somebody else. He wrote a letter to his faerie godmother and sent it by butterfly. (Which was a surprisingly efficient mode of delivery.) It read,  
“The occasion to use the wish you gave me for my wedding has never arisen, although it brought me great happiness to know that I had such a thing in my possession. The wish remains untouched, and my grandson is now of an age that he can understand how precious and powerful of a gift it is. May I have your permission to pass it on to him?” 

The faerie sent back a dragonfly that was bearing a mint green envelope.  
“My dear Nikolai-  
You may do whatever you please with my little present. To be perfectly honest I had forgotten about it, but it brings me joy to know that you treasured my humble keepsake for all these decades.  
-Your ever affectionate godmother.” 

And so, with an uneasy feeling in his gut, the king went down into the chambers below the castle. He made his way to the giant gold safe that contained the wish, then unclipped the key ring attached to his belt with a loud clangle. There were seven locks, each after another in succession. There were also seven keys, each of which had a glittering diamond on its handle. He would unlatch one bolt and then open a pair of small doors; there was another lock behind it. He soon reached the last one, but found himself hesitating. 

What would Yuri wish for? Nikolai had faith in his grandson that he would make the best choice, but his mother might try to sway him into asking for hair even if he didn't want it. He shook his head to try and lift his qualms. The action wasn't very effective, but he turned the final key regardless and pulled open the final set of doors. Lying in the reinforced metal vault was a miniature canvas pouch. The king picked it up and slipped it into his pocket, then closed and locked all of the doors. His stomach hurting and his worry barely masked, he began his journey up the stairs. 

Once Nikolai arrived on the next floor, he traversed the high-ceilinged hallway to the third door on the left, where his daughter and grandson were waiting for him. He steeled himself and then turned the doorknob, the wish weighing like lead in his pocket. Inside the room, Yuri and his mother were on opposite sides of the room and not looking at each other. The air between them was so thick that you could nearly cut it with a knife. 

The prince glanced up and his face immediately brightened.  
“Grandpa!” He ran over and hugged the king. Softly, Nikolai embraced him back. Yuri released him and then made eye contact. As he detected that his grandfather was feeling distressed, his smile vanished. “What's wrong?” The king gave a small smile.  
“All is well,” he reassured, although uneasiness was still rolling over him. His grandson stepped back, unconvinced, and the king withdrew the small pouch. 

Suddenly, his daughter was standing at his side and snatching it away. She tipped the contents into her hand, brown eyes glittering greedily. There, resting on her delicate palm, was a smooth, glowing blue stone.  
“Alright, now give it to Yuri,” Nikolai ordered in an even tone. She ignored him, clutching the wish tightly, and the prince looked between the two of them in confusion and alarm.  
“What's going on?” he demanded angrily.  
“I'd been saving this wish for you to use once you'd become an adult,” the king explained. “I know that you will make a good decision in what your wish will be.”  
“Well..,” Yuri looked down at his boots in thought. “I suppose that I would want everyone in our kingdom to be happy.” He blushed a little bit, self-conscious. Pride swelled in his grandfather’s heart. The prince might feign toughness, but he was so caring. 

“Give him the wish,” Nikolai commanded the crown princess firmly.  
“I know what he really wants,” she replied, waving her hand. Yuri’s eyes narrowed in anger.  
“No you don't. How could you, when you don't even know me?” he hissed. His mother laughed dismissively.  
“Here, I'll do it for you. I wish that Yuri had gorgeous golden hair a yard long, and that it would grow an inch every day, and grow twice as fast every time it was cut-”  
“Stop!” Yuri cried, darting forward to try and grab the stone from her, but it dissolved into nothingness and his mother yanked off his blue paisley headscarf. Shining gold locks tumbled down his back, swinging at his thighs and obscuring his face. “What have you done?” he spat, glowering in fury.  
“It's shame you didn't let me finish, I was only going to add ‘and twice as thick.’”  
“You idiot!” Yuri yelled, holding up handfuls of silky hair and looking at it in horror. “I didn't want this!” His voice broke as the words spilled from his lips, clearly fighting back tears. He tore out of the room and slammed the door behind him. 

“He could be a little more grateful,” the crown princess huffed. “I've only done him a favor. He's not such an eyesore anymore.” Nikolai’s mouth was drawn into a tight line. Through his anger, he was already doing calculations about what exactly the wish would entail. The sums were quite frightening.  
“Do you know what this means?” he asked coldly. Not getting the point, his daughter chittered,  
“Oh, yes! We can betroth him now!” Queasy and enraged, the king turned and left without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the people who read this! ^^ It makes me so happy <3 What did you think?  
> Also, handsome stranger next chapter! ;)


	3. Cyan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wish takes its toll and the hunt begins for a solution. Yuri sees a mysterious stranger in the palace gardens.

Yuri’s hair started out a yard long, and it grew an inch every single day. Within five weeks, it had doubled its length and was six feet long. It dragged on the floor behind him, and he was constantly tripping over it. Everyone kept complimenting him on how beautiful it was, but that only served to infuriate him further. This attention was something that he had never wanted. He pretended to be oblivious to the way that people's eyes followed him as he walked past, but it was damn near impossible. They were all at awe at his hair, when they hadn't even noticed him before. 

Soon, the prince’s hair was three yards long. It was so hot and heavy- he woke up every morning with a sore neck and a pounding headache, but he begrudgingly powered through. He had to wait as long as possibly could before cutting the hair off, because it would grow twice as fast as soon as he did. But oh, it was so unbearable and maddening.

One stuffy, sweltering night, Yuri simply could not take it anymore. He leapt down from his canopy bed and stormed to the other side of the room, hair following him like a golden bridal train. Groping in the dim light, he located his sewing basket and sifted through the contents. He found what he was looking for, and drew out a shiny pair of scissors that glinted in the soft moonlight. In a fit of rage, he grabbed handfuls of hair and chopped it off right at the scalp. Beautiful blonde hair blanketed the stone tiles like the softest carpet ever known to man. Uneven tufts covered his head, and when there were no long strands left he threw the scissors against the wall and yelled in fury. 

Yuri collapsed onto his bed and hot tears began to prick in the corners of his eyes, hands clenched and shaking. He was mad at his mother for putting him in this situation in the first place, but also mad at himself. He could have held out longer and endured being uncomfortable. Now, the hair would grow two inches every day. Frustrated, he slammed his fists against the mattress and kicked like a child having a tantrum. He screamed himself hoarse, muffled by the sheets. Eventually sleep overtook him and he drifted off.

The next morning, employees of the palace kept gasping when they saw Yuri.  
“Your lovely hair!” they would wail, and he would glare at them and growl darkly under his breath. At breakfast, his mother berated him.  
“I was so kind as to give you such nice hair, and then you chop it off like it's nothing?” Yuri bent his spoon under the wooden table. 

Within thirty-six days, the hair was at the same length that it was before. This time however, he managed to exhibit a little more patience than before and was able to wait an additional two weeks before he couldn't handle it anymore. In blind anger, he snipped off all of those gold locks again. After that, it grew at a rate of four inches a day, and the next time it was cut it grew eight inches. The numbers climbed exponentially, just like Yuri’s level of misery did. Quickly, his hair was growing so much that he would go to bed with his hair clipped short and then wake up to seemingly endless hair flowing all around the room like a golden river. He had to slice himself free from its confines in order to move.

The prince failed to appreciate any of the beauty that his mane had; the sight of it made him want to throw up, in fact. His life was a living hell, and it was all his mother’s fault. His loathing for her deepened with every passing day. Worst of all, she failed to see the problem.  
“There's so much of it!” she would titter gleefully as Yuri struggled to walk and even stay upright. He could not comprehend how she didn't realize how problematic having miles of hair was. Although he would never admit it, the prince sometimes cried in stifled sobs late at night. He longed for the days before he was being nearly drowned and suffocated in billows of his own hair. This was far more of a curse than being bald had ever been.

At first, they sent locks of hair to family members so that they could be set in rings and brooches, then later whole bundles for bracelets and sashes. Soon however, there was so much hair that they had no choice but to burn it. The flames roared and flickered a somber orange light into Yuri’s room through the window, the fire and sparks licking high in the dark night. 

When autumn rolled around, all of the farmers’ crops in the land failed. It was almost as if all of the gold from the harvest had been diverted into the prince’s hair. Famine broke out, and the people were starving. It hurt Yuri’s heart that parents couldn't even feed their children, nevertheless themselves. One day, he pulled his grandfather aside so that they could talk.  
“I'm concerned about our people,” he told him quietly, biting his lip and looking out the window, eyebrows slightly scrunched in agitation. “They're… They're dying.” The king nodded grimly, and Yuri continued. “Couldn't we sell my hair as an export to be used for something? There's so much of it, and we might as well put it to good use.” Nikolai glowed with pride for his grandson.  
“That's a good idea.” Yuri gave him a smile, weary yet genuine. He was happy that he had found a way to help. 

The very next day, the king called together a council or merchants and gave them samples of the prince’s hair to show foreign traders. Orders came pouring in, and the citizens of the country began working in processing the hair to sell. They stuffed pillows and dolls and mattresses with it, made rope for sailors to use on their ships, twisted cords for curtains, and put it on spools to use as thread. They tried to make cilices out of it for people who wanted to wear hair cloth as a form of repentance, but it was so silky that it only made them warm and comfortable, which defeated the purpose. So they stopped wearing it and instead, parents bought the cloth for their children. Soon, many kids could be seen wearing garments that looked as if they were made of spun gold. 

The hair kept on growing and growing and growing. The bellies of the people were filled, and eventually the famine came to an end. Ever wise, the king brought up the question that was on everyone's minds.  
“Having such a large supply of hair was useful during the famine, but what shall we do now?” Nikolai had taken notice of his grandson’s sorry state. He had persistent deep shadows under his blue-green eyes and was steadily growing thinner. The prince was hardly sleeping or eating, and it was starting to show. Nikolai was very worried about his beloved Yuri. It hurt him to see him in this condition. To make matters worse, the crown princess kept denying that there was a problem.  
“I don't see what's the issue with having all this lovely hair,” she would argue, leaving the king wondering if she was just stupid or too prideful to admit her own mistake. 

Regardless, something had to be done. He wrote a letter and sent it to his faerie godmother by way of bullfinch, asking for suggestions. Shortly after, a dove flew through his bedroom window with an eggshell-blue envelope clutched in its beak.  
“Why not advertise for people to bring potential cures?” the reply read. “Offer a substantial reward.” And so King Nikolai sent out heralds to the four corners of the Earth with a proclamation that anyone who could find a way to stop the prince’s hair from growing would be awarded treasure. (The king was a known philanthropist; during the famine he had given out gold to many people, but not too much in order to avoid inflation.) 

However, the crown princess got wind of this and slyly changed the wording of the decree to say that any princess that could find a solution could have Yuri’s hand in marriage. From many far-off and exotic countries came dozens of princesses bearing bottles and boxes filled with disgusting concoctions. Yuri soon figured out that his engagement was the prize, and nearly strangled his mother. Those giggling princesses had huge, heaving bosoms that threatened to spill out of their bodices, just like the contents of his stomach threatened to spill out every time he saw one of them. Their waists had been trained to be unnaturally small, and he glared at them and their disfigured bodies as they walked past, fluttering their false eyelashes at him. 

Yuri would still try all of the purported remedies, desperate to stop his hair from growing. But as much as he wanted this nightmare to end, he still breathed a sigh of relief every time one of the nasty medicines didn't work, incredibly grateful that he wouldn't have to wed the princess that had brought it. He disliked every single one of them. Their shallowness reminded him of his mother. 

Yuri began having to sleep in the throne room; it was the only space in the castle large enough to contain him and all of his hair. Every morning when he opened his eyes, the room would be filled with a shining sea of gold locks. He wept quietly and bitterly every single night, sitting on the windowsill and wishing that he was bald once more. One such evening, he noticed a figure in the garden below that was sitting on a bench and facing away from him. He couldn't make out any clear features in the pale moonlight besides that they had long, dark hair and a stocky, fit physique. 

Before he lowered his eyelids to descend into a fitful rest, he pondered blearily who the man could be. He'd never seen anyone on the palace grounds before that looked like him. When he awoke to the sun streaming in through the window, he dismissed the person as a mere dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is my favorite! ;)


	4. Blue-Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri meets the mysterious Otabek for the first time and can't help being captivated by him.

A couple days later, Yuri was sitting by the windowsill and sobbing unabashedly. He knew that nobody would enter the throne and see him weeping, so he was just releasing all of his pent-up frustration and stress without caring what he looked like. The window was open and the night air was cool against his wet, scarlet face. Strangled sobs echoed through garden below, his mouth twisted as shaking exhales escaped it. His blue-green eyes were squeezed shut, and his fair brows were screwed together. A killer headache was forming, brewing like an oncoming storm. 

Yuri nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice from below the window.  
“Why are you crying?” it queried in a bass, accented tone.  
“I'm not crying,” the blonde snarled, hastily wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands, then glanced down to see a stranger looking up at him. When he laid his sight on him, his heart skipped a beat.

The face illuminated in the dappled moonlight had deep, expressive, dark eyes that seemed to stare into Yuri’s very core. His chiseled jawline gave way to nicely muscled shoulders. Long black-brown hair shone in the pale luminescence, spilling around him and brushing against his belt in the front. A white cape with powder blue trim and embroidered with indigo thread was draped over him and dragging on the grass. A gray-glaucous tunic was laced down his toned body. It was undone just enough that the prince could make out well-defined clavicles and pectoral muscles.

Yuri’s mouth went dry, and he gulped. Suddenly, he became aware that the stranger was staring at him.  
“What are you looking at, asshole?” he asked, leaning out of the window. The man tilted his head ever so slightly to the left. It was such a small movement, but made his hair shift and some of it slided over his shoulder.  
“I could ask you the same question,” he replied, in a voice that was hard to read. His face was expressionless as well, besides the small smile tugging at his lips that the prince was probably only imagining. 

Yuri glared at the stranger, flustered.  
“I was only thinking about how ugly you are,” he retorted, heat rising in his cheeks. It was weak, he knew. The man’s right eyebrow drifted a millimeter upwards, hardly noticeable and yet morphing his face into one of quiet skepticism.  
“I see,” he mused, a subtle hint of humor in his tone. Silence fell for an awkward minute, hanging heavily over them. The prince’s heart was pounding in his chest as he searched for something to say. Turns out that he didn't have to.

“There are flowers ‘round your window,” the stranger remarked, “and none down here.”  
“Yeah?” Yuri asked, hating how breathless he sounded.  
“Could you please throw one down to me?” the man requested.  
“Why?” the blonde asked.  
“They are quite lovely. They do not look like that where I come from.” Yuri picked one of the champagne-colored roses and rolled the thorn-covered stem between his thumb and index finger, the blossom twirling like a pinwheel. He then tossed it, and it landed on the man’s head. The stranger gently untangled the flower from his hair and held it as if it was precious jewelry. He lifted his eyes and studied him with that piercing gaze. 

“What is it?” Yuri demanded. The man blinked and turned his head away. Was that a tinge of pink dusting his tan cheeks?  
“Nothing,” he answered, not giving anything away. The prince frowned, annoyed. He wanted to know what the man was thinking, but he kept his emotions hidden too well. “I am Otabek,” the enigma introduced. The prince pondered the name, letting it flip over and over in his mind. He rather liked the sound of it, although he wouldn't say that out loud.  
“I am Prince Yuri Plisetsky,” he announced, chin up. Why was he trying to impress this guy? 

“I know,” Otabek responded, a smile playing on his lips.  
“How?” Yuri asked, masking his confusion with brashness. It didn't deter the other man, however.  
“We used to have dancing lessons together when we were children, but you probably do not remember.” Yuri scoured his brain.  
“Yeah, I might remember that,” he dismissed, feigning disinterest.  
“Yuri Plisetsky had the unforgettable eyes of a soldier. You seemed to never give up or back down, and I admired that.” Otabek was giving the sweetest, softest smile that Yuri had ever seen. It wasn't large, but it conveyed so much warmth that for a second he felt like it was what was heating up his cheeks. He stood there, stunned into silence. His eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly open. Had that been a compliment? It certainly felt like one. He was unaccustomed to receiving genuine praise that didn't have to do with his bothersome mane. 

As if on cue, a golden chunk of hair fell in front of Yuri’s face and he pushed it back, aggravated. It pulled him out of his trance, and he heard,  
“-to you?” He'd missed the first part of what Otabek had been saying.  
“What?” he called down.  
“May I climb up to you?” the other man repeated. Yuri waved his hand.  
“Go ahead.” Inwardly, he was thinking about how dangerous it would be to scale the rose tree. It was relatively sturdy, but he didn't know if it could hold the weight of a full-grown person. Out of the corner of his eye he watched him drop his cape onto the ground, carefully place the rose on top of it, and then ascend through the twisted branches. 

Quickly, the top of Otabek’s head was close enough that Yuri could reach out and touch it (although he did not). Two gloved hands appeared on the ledge, and the dark-haired man hoisted himself up. The prince offered no assistance, transfixed by those strong arms and that thick hair. Otabek came in and sat next to the other man on the window seat, breaths coming fast. His eyes scanned the room, and the blonde was surprised to find himself embarrassed at having so much hair. Why was he ashamed? He normally didn't give a fuck what other people thought. Why was this guy getting to him so much?

Otabek turned back to him, a thoroughly nonchalant expression on his face as if miles of hair was something that he saw every day. Yuri noted that he smelled like the fresh air of the forest, but with a spice overtone that he didn't recognize. It was so nice, and made him want to just curl up into the wider frame… What was wrong with him? He'd never thought things like that before. Sitting beside him, he realized that the other man was about five inches shorter (the blonde had a tall, willowy frame). Somehow, this heightened Otabek’s appeal. 

The dark-haired man grabbed the prince’s hands, a serious look on his face. Those fingers felt rough, calloused, and worn. The warm touch made Yuri’s heart flutter against his will, and sent electricity jumping through his veins.  
“I want to help you,” Otabek resolved firmly.  
“How?” Yuri asked, hopeless and bitter. They'd tried nearly everything, and nothing had affected his hair in any way.  
“I do not know yet,” the other man admitted. “But I assure you, I will find a way.”  
“I sure hope so,” the prince muttered sarcastically. Underlying was a shadow of worry and desperation that he hoped the handsome stranger wouldn't catch. 

Otabek released his hold, and Yuri felt like he had lost something important. His pale hands lingered for a moment, mourning the relinquished touch.  
“Have you met my sister yet?” the other man queried, cocking his head a bit.  
“How am I supposed to know? What does she look like?” His lips slid into that tiny smile when he heard this.  
“She is about ten years old. She looks like me.”  
“Oh yeah, her.” Yuri could help but upturn the corner of his mouth when he recalled the little girl that had entered the throne room that morning. She had stalked up to where he was sitting and stiffly handed him a flower crown made of woven yarrow.  
“They heal. Maybe will help,” she had told him in broken Russian. He had hung the sweet-smelling crown up to dry. His smile threatened to morph into a beam as he thought about it. 

“I am her chaperone of sorts. She really wanted to see if she could help you. Fortunately, my father wanted me to practice my negotiation skills with some of the smaller trade guilds here, and so I was coming anyway.” This piqued Yuri’s interest, although he pretended that it didn't.  
“Are you a merchant?” Otabek looked out the window to the palace grounds that sprawled far and wide.  
“No.”  
“Well what are you, then?”  
“A prince,” Otabek informed, without a hint of loftiness or pride. It was if he was discussing eye color or height. 

Yuri pushed his hair out of his eyes, where it had fallen once more, and huffed.  
“I can see that my sister’s cure was not effective,” Otabek noted.  
“I'll say.” The blonde was still contemptuous even through his exhaustion. The other man softly ran his fingers through the mounds of hair surrounding them.  
“I will help you. I just need some time to come up with a solution.” His eyes were determined and so intense that a Yuri momentarily forgot how to articulate. He gulped and opened his mouth shakily.  
“Uh-” He cursed himself internally for his stalling. “I would like that.” God, that sounded stupid. 

Otabek gave him that lovely smile again and saluted him before beginning his descent down the rose tree. Yuri watched him go, holding his breath. With a soft thud, boots hit the ground; the other man looked up at the blonde, who turned away quickly to pretend like he hadn't been staring.  
“Farewell, Yuri Plisetsky.” That velvety deep voice floated up to the prince’s spot by the window.  
“Goodbye Otabek!” Yuri called back. A cloud passed over the moon, so all he saw was a shadow gather up his cloak and flower and then slip into the trees. That night, for some reason, he couldn't stop grinning like an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this! ^^  
> If you liked it, please leave a kudos or comment, it fuels me.


	5. Coal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Yuri's great happiness (although he would never admit that), Prince Otabek returns. The two of them grow closer and have some valuable conversation.

A few weeks passed without a sign of Otabek. Internally, Yuri was beginning to worry that he had just gone back to his home country. That conclusion hurt him, although he wouldn't admit that to himself. Maybe he had just been imagining it, but he had felt like the two of them had had… something. Yuri didn't know exactly what is was, but it had made him feel like he was walking on air. ‘Gross,’ he thought, sticking out his tongue to nobody in particular.

The hair had continued growing, to the point that the throne room was almost not big enough to contain all of it anymore. It was starting to become very frightening, it was getting longer so rapidly. At this rate, he might have to start sleeping outside. Beyond his window, the sky was filled to the brim with stars, like an ocean of twinkling galaxies. The moon was only a white sliver in the sky, hardly casting any light down into the courtyard. 

Yuri sighed and played with a stone that he had found, tossing it up gently and catching it again. It was rough and gray, not at all like the polished gemstones that adorned his mother’s crown. His face hardened as he was reminded of her. She kept tittering about how any day now, a princess would find a cure and he could be betrothed. In public, she would shower him with kisses (they were always on the top of his head, as if she was expressing affection to his locks), and there was nothing he could do but force a smile and bear it. He knew that she did not love him. She loved a perfect, well-behaved prince with beautiful golden hair that did not exist. It was as if they were playing a dress up game.  
“I'll pretend to be a sweet, doting crown princess, and you can be my lovely, obedient son!” He growled under his breath as he pictured this. 

Suddenly, Yuri heard a noise from below his window and stiffened. He leaned forward and peered into the darkness, trying to locate the source of the sound, but he saw nothing. The rustling came again, and his heart started beating wildly, panic jolting through him. Was it a robber? A kidnapper, come to steal him away to hold as ransom? He was close enough to the top rose branches to see them tremble and sway in the dim light. Someone was climbing the tree. Impulsively, he threw the stone down in an attempt to hit the intruder. A loud thwack was heard, and then a gruff exclamation of pain. He recognized that voice, and his eyes flew wide open. 

“Otabek?” Yuri asked, a little more frantic than he would have liked, and placed his hands on the sill for balance as he tried to spot the dark-haired man.  
“Why did you throw a rock at me?” a quiet, accented voice floated up.  
“I wasn't trying to..,” Yuri defended helplessly. “You're okay, right?” Concern laced his words.  
“I am alright.” A note of amusement tinged Otabek’s tone. “May I still come up, or was that an invitation to leave?” Guilt wormed its way through Yuri’s stomach.  
“Come up, I guess.” Even pretending not to care, the request seemed too eager in his eyes. 

The serrated and dew-covered rose leaves brushed against each other, and the whole tree groaned and shuddered. Yuri strained to try and see Otabek, but all the shadows blended together into ambiguous blobs. The scrape of boots against rosewood became louder, and he moved back from the window to be out of the way. The dark-haired man hoisted himself over the ledge and landed on the gray-blue marble floor. He dusted himself off and then removed his riding gloves. 

Yuri was entranced by his steady, sure movements. Breath held, he watched, transfixed, as the other man unclasped his heavy jacket and placed it on the window seat. The thin, loose white fabric that was covering Otabek’s strong shoulders and was slightly undone in the front left little to the imagination. It was a cool night, uncharacteristic of late winter. His coal-colored eyes shifted up and met Yuri’s, who tensed up in an instant and turned away. His face growing hot and red, the blonde put on an air of brashness. 

“So have you found a solution yet?” he questioned, arms folded and chin up. Otabek blinked.  
“I am afraid I have not, although I have been searching.” Disappointment rolled though Yuri, and he sunk down onto the window seat and began to scuff his feet against the tile, attempting to mask his despondency. Otabek sat beside him. “I promise that I will help you, and I intend to keep that promise.” Yuri studied the other prince’s earnest gaze, and the corners of his mouth moved upwards as he allowed himself a glimmering modicum of hope.  
“Really truly promise?” he queried, far more vulnerably than he wanted.  
“Really truly.” Otabek gave him a warm and soft smile, eyes sparkling. The blonde scowled and looked away as his heart began fluttering like a tiny bird. 

Yuri quickly became aware that the other man was staring at him.  
“What?” he demanded, flustered. Otabek shook his head as if to clear it.  
“Uhh…” He looked trapped.  
“Yes?” Yuri pressed, waiting for a response. The other man averted his eyes and blushed softly.  
“I was just thinking about how lovely you look.” The Russian’s eyes widened and his mouth fell agape. “I am sorry, I did not mean-” Otabek apologized frantically, hand outstretched as if to take back his words. Without thinking and pulse racing, Yuri grabbed the hand, eyes stretched huge. The both of them just sat there in silence, looking at each other.

Yuri became aware of what he had done, and released his grip. He found himself unable to muster up any words to say.  
“I overstepped my bounds,” Otabek broke the silence reservedly. “I am sorry.”  
“No!” Yuri blurted out and then covered his mouth, furious with himself. The other prince seemed stunned, especially compared to his usually placid expression. “I-” The blonde swallowed. “I don't mind. Thank you.” Otabek relaxed slightly.  
“I am glad that you are not mad,” he whispered with a hint of relief, lips hardly moving. His eyes had such a soft look in them that Yuri thought that he might melt into a puddle. The feelings that he got when he was around the other prince were so foreign. He was starting to get a sneaking suspicion of what the emotion could be, but he angrily pushed the inkling away. He could not accept it, because there was no way that it could be true. 

Otabek’s gaze wandered over the room, which was filled with ever-expanding piles of golden tresses.  
“Are you here all of the time?” he probed gently.  
“Yeah,” Yuri answered bitterly. “The princesses have started meeting me in here because it's the only place in the castle that can hold all of this hair,” he explained flatly.  
“Do you wish that you could leave?”  
“Of course I do!” the blonde snapped, a little more harshly than he intended. He felt immediately guilty when he saw Otabek wince slightly, hurt flashing over his features for a moment. 

“I…” He averted his eyes and leaned back against the wall, his fingers rubbing nervously over the embroidered cushion of the seat. “This might sound stupid, but sometimes I feel like a canary imprisoned in a gilded cage.”  
“I understand how you feel.” Yuri turned to face the other man when he heard this, surprised.  
“You do?” Otabek nodded in affirmation.  
“Certainly, although our situations are different.”  
“What do you mean?” Yuri asked, feigning nonchalance.  
“Well, you have physical restraints such as being confined to this throne room, whereas I have obligatory restraints. I am permitted to travel wherever I want, but no matter where I go I cannot escape the fact that I am going to be king.” 

Yuri nodded.  
“Like how my mother is going to force me to get married?” he questioned bitterly. “To a fucking airheaded princess.”  
“Oh.” Was that… sadness in Otabek’s tone? The blonde examined his face carefully for clues, but discovered nothing. “I best be off,” the dark-haired prince told him distantly. 

Panic shot through Yuri as Otabek stood and prepared to exit the window.  
“Wait!” he cried. The other man stopped moving and looked at him, eyebrow slightly quirked.  
“Yes?”  
“You'll come back soon, right?” Yuri despised the waver in his pathetic plea. Otabek gave that small smile of his.  
“Of course. We are friends, are we not?” The blonde couldn't control himself when he processed this, and a wide grin split his face in two. Heart pounding in his ribcage like a hammer, he replied,  
“Yes.” 

Otabek slid on his thick riding gloves, and then stepped onto the window ledge. Before he began his descent, he gave the other prince a salute. Yuri returned it, and just like that he vanished into the night. Feeling giddy, he laid down on the window seat and realized that he had left his jacket behind. The other man was long gone by now, so Yuri just curled up next to the garment. It smelled like Otabek, and the blonde got adequate sleep for the first time in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we go to the next level!~


	6. Obsidian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek offers a heartfelt gift to Yuri, and the two of them have some interactions with each other that could indicate a budding romance.

Yuri was sitting on the window seat, petting his white cat’s fur contently. It had been a while since he had seen him; Potya enjoyed going on long expeditions in the gardens, and on top of that he seemed to have a difficult time remembering where Yuri was staying now. A purr rumbled in his throat as he cuddled against his human’s belly. Yuri scratched behind his ears, and he arched up his head to receive it. He heard a sound outside and perked up, alert. Potya did the same. 

He protested as Yuri took him off of his lap and placed him in a cushion, then moved over to peek out the window. Sure enough, Otabek was climbing up the rose tree. Yuri watched him for a while, heart beating like a rabbit’s, but quickly turned away when he realized what he was doing. He plopped down on the window seat and glared, head bowed and a pink tinge to his cheeks, until Otabek stepped on the ledge and entered. His boots clicked softly against the marble flooring. 

They met eyes, aquamarine and obsidian, and stared at each other for a couple of moments (although it felt like an eternity). Neither of them blinked, seemingly petrified. Otabek finally tore his gaze away, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth. Avoiding eye contact, he opened the pouch on his belt and withdrew a small parcel enveloped in paper and tied with a crimson thread. He held it out to Yuri. 

“For you,” he proclaimed bluntly. Yuri reached out and took the package, slightly dazed. He pulled the string and then unfolded the wrapping, heart rate elevated. Nestled inside was a polished blue-green stone with little sunflowers hand-painted on it. It was strung onto a gold chain that glittered in the moonlight. “It reminded me of you,” Otabek told him. 

Yuri was speechless, delicately running his finger over the cool stone and raised blossom detailing. Nobody besides his grandfather had ever given him something just because they cared about him. They were always motivated by selfish reasons. They wanted to be on good terms with his country, they wanted to strike a deal, they wanted their daughter to become engaged with him… 

“Thank you,” Yuri responded simply, severely understating what this meant to him. He tried to lift up his hair to put the necklace on, but it was too heavy to keep out of the way while trying to do a clasp. He growled in annoyance. Suddenly Otabek was beside him, and he could smell the intoxicating scent of foreign spices and the forest.

“Lift up your hair,” Otabek requested. Yuri handed him the jewelry and then obeyed. Otabek drew it around his neck and fiddled with the latch, his warm fingers brushing against Yuri’s skin and sending chills down his spine. Otabek released the necklace and moved back so that they were facing each other. Yuri didn't usually wear ornamentation unless he had to, but something about the weight of the pendant against his heart made him feel all bubbly inside. ‘Gross.’ 

“Who's this?” Otabek inquired, gesturing to the cat resting on the seat.  
“Oh! This is Potya.” Yuri couldn't help but smile when talking about his beloved pet. He patted his head softly. Otabek regarded Potya and blinked.  
“May I touch them?”  
“You can try, but he doesn't really like anyone besides me.” Cautiously, Otabek sat down between Yuri and the cat. Yuri scooted away so that it didn't appear that he was relishing being so close to him. (He was.)

Otabek didn't make eye contact with Potya, and carefully extended his hand. Potya sniffed it suspiciously, and Otabek gently ran a hand down his back. He waited for a second to see what the reaction would be, and the cat sauntered closer to rub his head against his side. Yuri couldn’t help but be impressed. Potya seldom took to anyone so quickly, and frequently hissed at people that tried to touch him. 

Otabek rubbed his head, and thunderous purrs soon filled the air. The cat closed his sapphire eyes and lifted his chin so that Otabek knew that he wanted to be stroked there. With a small smile playing on his lips, he obliged. Tiny paws rested on his muscular thighs and started kneading them, claws flexing in and out and snagging on the fabric. 

To be perfectly honest, and while he was happy that the pair of them were getting along, Yuri was a tad jealous of the affection that Potya was receiving. ‘I want him to pay attention to me!’ he thought, before quickly scolding himself. He was being foolish. Envious of a cat? Ha. He looked away, arms folded and scowling. 

“Yuri?”  
“What?” Yuri turned back, and his cross expression immediately melted. Potya was sprawled out over Otabek’s lap, rubbing his cheek all over his legs. Otabek's eyes were so happy, and he looked as if this was one of the greatest things to ever happen to him. Yuri smiled and reached out to Potya. His long sleeves were ensnared in those sharp claws, and his fingers were nibbled on playfully. (Potya would never pierce his skin.) The cat soon grew bored and let go of his arm, then leapt down. Ears pricked, he crept up to some of Yuri’s boundless golden hair and pounced on it. He rolled over and batted at it, then started chewing on it. 

“Taste good?” Yuri asked dryly. He jumped in alarm when Otabek snorted, and looked over to see amusement evident in the nuances of his face. Yuri felt frozen in place, just dumbly drinking in the sight of Otabek. Kind eyes, strong jawline, day-old stubble… Subconsciously, he wondered if his hair was as soft as it seemed. Before he even knew what was happening, he was drawing his hand over the top of Otabek’s head and down his intricately woven plait. The hair was a very different texture from his own fine strands, thick and silky and a bit wiry. 

As soon as Yuri gained his self-awareness back, he quickly withdrew his hand. Otabek’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and he touched his braid. They both sat there in silence, Yuri’s cheeks burning.  
“I…” He gritted his teeth, frustrated with himself. “Sorry.” He'd fucked everything up now, hadn't he? He dared a glance at Otabek, who was simply staring at him without a sound. His stoic visage was unreadable. 

“Yuri…” Yuri’s eyes lifted when he heard his name, heart fluttering like a trapped bird.  
“Yes?” he questioned, feigning indifference (although his bouncing leg was difficult to not notice). To his surprise, Otabek stretched out his hand and touched his pinky to his. Millimeter by millimeter, their fingers shifted until they were intertwined. Yuri flushed red and turned away in embarrassment. Neither moved their hand. He swallowed nervously and steeled himself, determined. Before he could change his mind, he stiffly laid his head onto Otabek’s shoulder. Both of their bodies were tense, but gradually loosened up as they relaxed. 

Yuri closed his eyes and breathed in Otabek’s scent. It had such a calming effect on him that he nearly forgot about how fast his hair was growing, pooling around them like molten gold. Otabek radiated heat, and he snuggled slightly farther into his frame. He tried to lift his eyelids, but found it nearly impossible. It was as if they were laden with lead. 

Yuri gave a wide yawn, and then his thoughts began to drift like jellyfishes on the sea that were being tossed by foam-crested waves. He barely registered Otabek tenderly lowering him down and covering him with something large and warm and fluffy. He lost consciousness completely and descended into the realm of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I haven't given up on this fic.) Sorry it took so long! I was working on the exchange, as well as Break a Butterfly. More soon! Hope this was satisfactory~  
> This is unbetad, so let me know if there's any mistakes!  
> Ps- angst soon >:)


	7. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri's mind begins to take dark paths, and Otabek offers some comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of suicide contemplation.

Yuri kept his meetings with Otabek a secret. He knew that if his mother found out about… whatever it was that they had, she would make sure that they would never see each other again. And so he never said a word about seeing Otabek at night, and nobody was suspicious (from what he could tell). However, to his immense irritation, people did seem to point out that he was smiling more. Princesses continued visiting, and none of their cures were effective. Yuri sunk deeper and deeper into hopelessness, and the only thing that could make his worries fade into the background for a while was spending time with Otabek. He made him feel so… alive. It was like Otabek brought color to his world. 

 

So when he didn't visit in two whole weeks, Yuri began to worry that something terrible had happened to him. ‘Stop it, he's probably just fine,’ he growled at himself. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, or about to go awry, no matter how hard he tried. A large problem was that he had boundless amounts of time, and all that he seemed to do to fill it was think. That was when his darkest thoughts bubbled to the surface. 

 

There, lying in mounds of his own hair, Yuri’s desperation mounted. Would he be stuck with this curse for the rest of his life? Sometimes, in the most hidden recluses of his mind, he contemplated a way to end this nightmare. Oh, what a lovely corpse his dear mother would think he was. Shimmering, golden skeins of hair spilling everywhere, and wound around his neck like a snake. They would contrast well with his blue face. She would be disappointed that she couldn't marry him off if he was dead.

 

It was during times like that that Yuri found himself rubbing the pendant Otabek had given him. He found that it offered some consolation, evoking a calm and peaceful sensation (although it wasn't enough to quell the turmoil inside of him). Gently tracing a finger over the sunflower patterns painted onto the stone, he bit his lip. Potya hadn't decided to drop by that day, and he was feeling awfully lonely. It was as if a huge weight was pressing down on his throat, shoulders, and ribcage. It was miserable.

 

A tear dripped down Yuri’s cheek, and he furiously wiped it away. He was damn weak, letting his emotions get to him like that. Sniffling, he drew his knees close to his chest. All that he wanted was somebody to hold him close to help him through this, although he'd never admit that to himself. Not able to delay the inevitable any longer, he started sobbing silently. A pinching headache began to form behind his burning eyes. He could feel his hair moving against him as it grew, which made him cry harder. He didn't know what he was going to do. 

 

When Yuri felt a warm hand on his upper arm, he nearly jumped out of his skin in shock. He glanced up to see a concerned Otabek, who was bending down so that he could be closer.

 

“D-Don't look at me!” Yuri spat, scrambling backward on the tile and turning his head so that his wet, puffy, splotchy face was obscured by a thick curtain of hair. It was utterly humiliating to be seen so vulnerable, and he was sure that he was hideous. With a soft wail, he curled up into a ball and continued weeping, gasping for air. Suddenly he was being picked up, and he struggled half-heartedly. “P-Put me down!” he protested feebly, voice shaking. 

 

Otabek didn't comply, only sat down on the window seat and gently rocked him back and forth. Tenderly, he stroked Yuri’s back. Yuri grabbed handfuls of his soft, wine-colored tunic and bawled. Because he was taller than Otabek, he had to lean down to rest his head on his shoulder, but he didn't mind in the slightest and buried his face into Otabek's neck. Yuri hoped that Otabek didn't care that he was getting drenched in tears. 

 

Gradually Yuri’s breathing steadied, and his sobs quieted. He threaded his slender fingers through the hair at the nape of Otabek’s neck, running them through all the way to the ends of the locks. 

 

“Are you okay? Did somebody hurt you?” Otabek questioned protectively. Yuri hid in the folds of Otabek’s clothing and shook his head. 

 

“I'm fine,” he mumbled, slightly muffled. 

 

“I do not think you are,” Otabek stated bluntly. Neither of them uttered a word for a full minute. 

 

“I hate myself,” Yuri finally admitted quietly. 

 

“I cannot fathom why you would hate yourself.”

 

“I'm weak and pathetic, and I was stupid enough to let myself get cursed.” His voice broke as he trailed off.

 

“You are not weak.” Otabek leaned his head against Yuri’s. “You are managing to make it through this trial, and you have not given up yet. And the curse is not your fault. You were not the one who made the wish.” He sounded so resolute that Yuri was starting to think that he might be right. 

 

“But if I hadn't been born, then none of this would have happened,” he argued despondently and bitterly. 

 

“Oh, Yuri…” Otabek’s tone was devastatingly heartbroken. “I am so grateful that you are alive.” 

 

“Thanks.” Yuri brushed this aside easily, but some of his pain alleviated and he felt a bit better. “You're never scared, you're so strong and brave…” Otabek made a subdued amused noise. “I'm serious!” Yuri cried, cheeks and ears burning. 

 

“I was scared when I came in and saw you crying,” Otabek confessed gently. Guilt settled in Yuri’s belly. 

 

Suddenly, Otabek tensed up and his head whipped around to look out of the window. 

 

“What is it?” 

 

“I do not know. I thought I heard something right below the window.” Unease had crept into his tone. He looked out to the garden with narrowed eyes. Yuri felt goosebumps pop up all over his flesh. 

 

“I feel like someone is watching us,” he whispered, striving to keep the fearful waver out of his voice. 

 

“Stay low,” Otabek instructed, then carefully laid Yuri down on the window seat. He got onto his knees to stare out the window, keeping perfectly still. His muscles were tight, as if he was ready to spring into action, and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Yuri watched him with wide eyes, heart racing in trepidation like a rabbit’s. He could hear blood thumping in his ears. Trying to distract and comfort himself, he ran an index finger over the gold embroidered brocade of Otabek’s shapan. 

 

Otabek remained motionless and practically unblinking for a couple of minutes, then cautiously turned back to Yuri. 

 

“Perhaps it was only my imagination,” he murmured, not sounding sure at all. He tenderly tucked Yuri’s hair behind his ear. Yuri laid his head down on Otabek’s lap, trying to calm his nerves. Had someone been spying on them? They didn't say much for the rest of the night, staying silent for the most part. Otabek gently petted Yuri’s hair, and both of them ignored the fact that his hands were trembling. Yuri couldn't sleep, so he snuggled his face into Otabek’s firm belly instead. Unfortunately, hiding there didn't make his worries vanish. 

 

The sky began to lighten, and birds started to wake up to tell the world good morning. Yuri didn't want to move, however, and it seemed that Otabek felt the same. A sharp knock rapped at the door of the throne room, and both of them jolted with eyes wide. 

 

“Young Master Yuri? May I come in?” a maid inquired, slightly muted by the door and hair heaped all over. Yuri sat up, gesturing to Otabek. 

 

“Go, go!” he hissed quietly. “Just a minute!” he called, hoping that panic hadn't entered his voice. 

 

“Alright…” There was a note of suspicion in her tone. Otabek quickly scrambled onto the window ledge, and lowered himself onto the rose branches. Before he could descend, Yuri made a split second decision. He fiercely grabbed Otabek's collar and pulled him closer. They kissed, and while it was sloppy and close-lipped, it warmed Yuri up from head to toe. He thought he might melt, knees weak, but soon realized what he had done and rapidly released his hands as if he'd come in contact with something searing hot. 

 

Otabek stared at him with huge eyes and pink cheeks, stunned into silence. Blushing madly and heart rate elevated, Yuri touched his lips self-consciously. They tingled from the fresh memory of the feeling of Otabek’s lips. What on earth had he done? Another knocking came at the door. 

 

“Are you alright in there?” Otabek’s dazed expression turned into a determined one, and he started making his way down the rose tree. Yuri lingered there for a second, wistfully watching him. “Master Yuri?” 

 

“I'm coming!” Yuri yelled, aggravated. With one more glance at Otabek, he began wading through piles of his own hair. His legs got tangled in it, and he groaned in anger and disgust. It was packed to the ceiling in most places, so he steeled himself and began his ascent. It was hard work, considering how silky the locks were. His bare feet could hardly get any traction. He reached the top of one of the smaller mountains of golden hair, and he could almost touch the arched, gilded ceiling. He slid down the other side and slipped as he landed, hitting the floor with a thud. Cursing, he stood and stomped over to the door. 

 

Yuri turned the knob and struggled to get the door open (it kept getting stuck on his hair, and he had to kick it out of the way). The maid was waiting there expectantly, shiny scissors in hand. 

 

“It's time for you to go to breakfast, my lord.” Yuri sighed and turned around. As she clipped his mane closely against his scalp, he gritted his teeth and glowered at the stacks of hair. He was not looking forward to dealing with his mother. Once all of the golden hair had been snipped off, he began down the hallway. Before he even turned the corner, his hair was trailing behind him again. 

 

When he was finally able to return to the throne room later that night (the hair had been cleared out), he was completely emotionally and physically exhausted. The monotonous routine of having frosty meals with the crown princess and spending the rest of the day having to meet with people offering useless cures was beyond tiresome. He had to pretend to be happy, pretend to not be miserable, pretend to be a perfect prince… 

 

He kneeled on the seat and looked out the window to see that the rose tree had been cruelly hacked down. All that remained was a hatcheted stump, and the outline of vines on the stone wall. A lump of pure dread and terror settled in Yuri’s stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuun~ Update in 1-2 weeks, hopefully.
> 
> A big thanks to Izzybee92! <3 She's always so helpful and motivational. Go read her stuff!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/IzzyBee92/pseuds/IzzyBee92
> 
> Break a Butterfly update really soon! Be on the lookout.


	8. Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek and Yuri try a cure to stop his hair from growing.

“That's a pretty bauble, Yuratchka,” the crown princess purred, eyes narrowed. The use of a diminutive made Yuri shiver. He drew away quickly as she reached out to touch his necklace. He clutched it protectively against his chest and growled softly. Suspicion eased into his mother's features. “Why aren't you letting me see it?”

“It's not yours,” Yuri hissed. Anger and panic rose inside of him, but he tried to push it down. She was not going to take away this precious gift from Otabek. 

“Where'd you get it from?” she questioned. 

“It's not your business.” 

“I asked you where you got it from.” Her tone had hardened, false friendliness gone.

“Yes, I know. I heard you.” Yuri wished his scowl could bore into her.

“Then answer me!” his mother demanded. 

“No.” Yuri gritted his teeth. If she found out who had given it to him, he would never see Otabek again. 

“Well if you won't tell me the means by which you received it, then I guess I'll have to take it from you.”

“It belongs to me.” 

“You are my child, and I want you to hand it over.” 

“I'm an adult, and I'm not giving it to you.” He looked to his grandfather for support, but seeing his empty seat reminded him that he was on an ambassadorial trip. 

“You'd better, or there will be consequences.” His blood ran cold. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Otabek. But he tried to shake off the fear. This was probably just his mother's attempt to intimidate him. Well, it wasn't going to work. 

“Why do you even care?” 

“I deserve to know what my son is up to.” ‘Shit.’ Yuri had a sinking feeling that his theory had been confirmed. His mom knew that he had been meeting someone. 

“So now you care what I'm doing? When you haven't for eighteen years?” he snarled. All his hatred was boiling over. The years of pent-up frustration and anger was overflowing, and the resulting tidal wave couldn't be stopped. He furiously shoved his hair out of his face, but it just fell back again. 

“I could make your life a living hell, Yura,” she threatened with a low voice. 

“Trust me,” Yuri spat, “You already have.” He stood up and stormed out of the banquet hall, leaving his food untouched. Glaring, he stalked down the corridor with his head lowered. Ruefully, the thought of how little he'd been eating crossed his mind. The pressure and misery had been getting to him more than usual, and it showed in the way that his ribs could be counted and how gaunt his face had become. He fucking hated himself.

Yuri turned into the throne room and traversed the expansive floor. The slapping of his bare feet against the floor reverberated through the empty area and bounced against the walls. With a sigh, he collapsed onto the window seat. He was so dejected and hopeless-feeling. He would do almost anything at this point to break the curse. 

Once again, he contemplated ending it all. Did people who killed themselves go to heaven? Or would he just be trading in one hell for another? He pondered this for hours, going over various methods that he could choose from. Which one would get this over with the fastest? Maybe a sword to the head… He smiled bitterly. How would Otabek react to his death? It occurred to him that his prince was the only thing besides his cat and grandfather that was tying him here. He didn't want any of them to be upset. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he gave up and fell into a troubled sleep.

“Yuri! Yuri!” Otabek called to him in his dream; he sounded far away, as if he was underwater. Yuri couldn't find him no matter how hard he tried. There was only crushing darkness. His desperation grew, and he heard a knocking noise as if his reality was being torn apart. With a start, he awoke. He heard his name repeated again, and looked out the window just in time to see a pebble hit the stone wall. “Yuri!” Otabek cried. He looked so relieved, and Yuri's heart melted. 

“How are you supposed to get up here?” Yuri inquired groggily. Otabek's brow furrowed slightly in thought, and then he snapped his gaze up. 

“Let your hair down!” 

“What?” Yuri asked incredulously. 

“Trust me!” Otabek's face was so earnest that he had to comply. 

“Wait a minute!” Yuri hunted through the heaps of hair, searching for the end. He could not find it, and so he grabbed a random section and ran back to the window. He tightly wrapped the locks around the iron hook embedded in the stone, and then let the massive loop of hair fall. Otabek took and tugged it to see if it could support his weight, before pulling himself up. Feet braced against the wall, he ascended. 

Yuri held his breath without really realizing it, praying that this would work. Slowly but surely, Otabek got closer and closer. Yuri's heart thumped in anticipation. He wanted to hold him so much that his chest ached. After an agonizingly long amount of time, Otabek stepped onto the window sill and stumbled down into Yuri’s waiting arms. He tenderly held him close, and was squeezed tightly by Yuri in return. Yuri wanted to never let him go again, but they eventually parted. 

Otabek was slightly flushed from exertion, hair disheveled. He ran a gloved hand through it, and reached into his tunic pocket. Out came a deep crimson rose, petals slightly crumpled. He offered it to a Yuri, who accepted it gladly. 

“I brought you one because all of your white ones are gone.” Yuri held the gift close to his chest, where his pendant rested. A twinge of sadness strummed his heartstrings when he thought about his chopped-down rose tree. He had grown rather attached to it without realizing.

“Thank you.” He gently set the flower down atop his pillow. “I'll hang it up to dry later.” He gave a smile to let Otabek know that he was sincerely grateful, and the two of them sat down on the window seat. Yuri automatically rested his head on Otabek’s shoulder. His broader frame was so warm and comforting next to him. Bravely, Yuri intertwined their fingers. Even though it had only been a week, he had missed him so much. 

“I have something else for you,” Otabek murmured. 

“You have so many presents for me that it's practically a dowry,” Yuri muttered teasingly. Was that a touch of pink on Otabek’s cheeks? 

“I-” Otabek cleared his throat, and Yuri’s pulse raced. He slipped his hand away, and Yuri’s own hand felt dreadfully empty. He reached into his trouser pocket and procured a jaded pair of scissors. “I thought you could try these?” He handed them to Yuri. They were certainly antiques, the metal chipped and worn. They weren't anything fancy, just simple shears without unnecessary embellishment. 

“It may not look like it, but they are magic,” Otabek informed him. Yuri closed his eyes and could feel the telltale hum of of a charm coursing through him veins. The shears were warm, although he couldn't tell if that was from the spell placed on them or from Otabek’s body heat. “However,” Otabek continued, “I do not know their purpose. The man I purchased them from said that they form a connection with the person whose hair they've last cut. I do not know what that is supposed to mean, but I thought you could give them a try.” 

Yuri considered the object resting on his palms. Could these ordinary-looking scissors be the key to his salvation? 

“Let's do it,” he decided, determined. He returned the shears to Otabek, who nodded, and then he turned so that he was facing away. 

“You want me to?” 

“Of course.” He didn't even have to think about it. There was nobody that he would rather have try and break the curse. Wordlessly, Otabek pulled a lock in front of him so that he could see the spot where he would be cutting. Yuri dipped his head in agreement and lowered his eyelids, listening to the loud sound of blades snapping closed filling the air. His foot tapped anxiously. After what felt like an eternity (but was only actually a few seconds), the snipping stopped. 

For a single liberating moment, he thought that it had worked. But then he felt his hair pooling around his feet again. Angry, he blinked tears away. If the scissors had been from anybody else he would have thrown them across the room in frustration, but he tucked them into his pocket instead. 

“I am so sorry, Yura,” Otabek whispered, and encircled him in a gentle embrace. Yuri clutched at the fabric covering his back, trying not to sob. He rested his chin into the crook of his neck. How had he allowed himself to get his hopes up? He was so foolish. 

“It's okay,” he sniffed, voice cracking pitifully. Why was he so damn weak? 

“You are not weak to cry,” Otabek assured softly, as if he had read his mind. Something inside of Yuri snapped, and suddenly the dam burst and tears were slipping down his face. “I will find a solution, no matter how long it takes. I swear on my honor,” Otabek promised fiercely. 

Yuri’s bosom swelled up with an emotion almost too strong to describe, feeling foreign and yet strangely familiar. It was like a distant memory, and where he knew it from was as unplaceable and fleeting as a mirage. This feeling was the one that made his heart flutter when he thought about Otabek, the one that made him want to protect him from harm, the one that made him want to follow him to the corners of the earth. He couldn't think of a name for such a powerful emotion, although he was sure there was one. 

Still holding each other, their arms gradually relaxed and they leaned back against the wall. There was an air of tranquility surrounding them, peaceful and frame as if it were something precious that could be destroyed in an instant by an outside force. Yuri vowed to treasure every single moment. They didn't need to say anything to fill the silence. There was nothing that needed to be said, just serenity. All that Yuri needed was to drink in Otabek’s touch for as long as he could. He hoped that Otabek felt the same way. 

The black sky shifted to navy blue, than a vibrant purple. Yuuri's heart sunk as he realized that dawn was arriving. Otabek stood with reluctance, and Yuri involuntarily let out a plaintive whimper. ‘Ugh.’ He dug his nails into his palms to punish himself for his patheticness. 

“Yura.” He lifted his eyes and met Otabek’s kind gaze. “I have something that might work, but I will need time to plan how to execute it.” Otabek must have seen the panic in Yuri’s eyes, because he quickly added, “Do not worry, I will return soon.” 

“How soon?” Yuri hated the waver in his voice. 

“Tomorrow, if all goes well.” Otabek offered one of his subtle smiles as reassurance, and then leaned down to kiss him. His slightly chapped lips were so, so gentle. Yuri had thought that perhaps their first kiss had been a fluke before, but now he knew that he had been completely wrong. It was brief, but left him breathless and with his head spinning. He felt as light as a feather, as if he could drift on the wind and take flight. 

Otabek covered his mouth and looked away, flustered. Yuri blinked and snapped out of his daze. He swallowed dryly, heart hammering in his ribcage. He tried to think of something, anything to say to convey how he felt, but the words just wouldn't form on his tongue.

“Thank you,” he finally squeaked, then cleared his throat. Otabek’s beautiful black eyes softened, and the corners of his mouth lifted. 

“Just returning the favor,” he responded with a hint of humor. Yuri's cheeks burned, and he averted his gaze. “Goodbye, Yura.” Otabek reached out and squeezed his hand before letting go and stepping up onto the windowsill. Yuri's hand lingered in midair for a second before he dropped it. 

“Otabek?” Otabek turned back, chiseled visage illuminated by the silver light of the moon. “Please come back as soon as you can,” Yuri pleaded quietly. Otabek dipped his head. 

“I will try my best.” Without thinking, Yuri ran up to him and kissed his cheek in farewell. 

“Goodbye.” Barely noticeably, Otabek’s eyes widened and a tinge of flush graced his tan complexion. He gave that fond smile again and then began scaling down the severed golden hair. Watching him go, Yuri was already beginning to feel the happiness drain out of him and being replaced with a cold and hard emptiness. He watched Otabek descend. Before Otabek turned to leave, he blew a kiss to him. Yuri caught it and held it to his chest. He sighed wistfully and collapsed onto the sill, arms dangling. What a lovesick sap he was becoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big twist next chapter! Stay tuned~
> 
> Feed me comments, they fuel me~


	9. Rose Quartz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri falls asleep and dreams of drowning. Otabek tries a cure on him, and they pray for success.

Yuri was afraid that his hair was going to push him out of the window if he slept. He'd woken up that morning half-buried in it, the room packed from roof to ceiling with golden locks. If Otabek's cure didn't work, then he would have to start sleeping in the gardens. He was trying to stay awake, but his eyelids kept sliding closed against his will. He fought fiercely against his tiredness by pacing the floor, yelling loudly in frustration, and slapping his face. Nothing seemed to be working. It was if all of the restless nights that he'd had were now catching up to him. 

Pinching the inside of his wrist, Yuri peered into the darkness outside his window in hopes of catching a glimpse of Otabek. He saw no sign of him. Every second he struggled in a losing battle. His mind clouded and not thinking rationally, he thought, ‘Maybe I can just close my eyes for a second…’ His severed hair was still tied to the hook on the wall, so Otabek could climb up if he arrived. He collapsed onto the seat, dozing off almost immediately as he succumbed to exhaustion.

Yuri dreamed he was on a beach, the waves softly lapping against his bare feet. Scattered about the sand were white roses, pristine and almost glowing. They looked like alabaster shells that had washed up. The morning air felt so cool and refreshing on his skin, and the rising sun illuminated him with a warm glow from the East. His hair hung at his waist, golden strands glimmering in the light. To his left, a misty beach stretched on for eternity. A breeze tugged at his loose white tunic. The water level increased slightly, reaching the bottom of his calves, but he thought nothing of it. 

Yuri bent down to pick up one of the roses, then cupped it in his hands and brought it up to his face to take in the its delicate scent. The sunshine shone through the paper-thin petals, which felt like velvet under his touch. While he had been examining the fragile bloom, the tide had slipped up to his knees. He casually began walking in the direction of the shore, but it didn't seem to grow any closer. In fact, the ocean only grew deeper. Now it was at his thighs, soaking his breeches.

Panic gripped Yuri's chest, and he started to run. Droplets splashed through the air wildly, but his legs felt like lead and it was incredibly hard to slosh through the water. A giant swell surged up behind him, and fear shook his system. It silently crept closer, foreboding and eerie. In vain, he struggled to escape and dropped the flower in the process. The sinister wave broke one overtook him. His feet were swept out from underneath him, and he screamed as he was pushed underwater. Bubbles steamed out of his mouth, and his lungs filled up. 

Desperately, he attempted to swim to the surface; it was useless. He couldn't even see any light above him, only complete blackness. He kept trying to inhale, but there wasn't anything to inhale. His body was warm all over as he drowned, and he could no longer tell if he had woken up or was still asleep. Choking, he tried to clear his airway to no avail. The darkness was pressing in on all sides, trapping him. He started to feel lightheaded, and his skull felt like it was stuffed with cotton. 

The next thing Yuri knew, he could hear Otabek's voice. It was calling his name over and over again, begging and pleading. It seemed so distant and muffled. With great effort, Yuri fluttered his eyelids up, and the first thing he saw was Otabek's concerned face. Everything was blurry, and black spots stained his vision. Gasping heavily and dizzy, he wasn't sure if he had the strength to sit up. Otabek was cradling him close, and he noticed that there were quiet tears dripping down his cheeks. He'd never seen him this way before… Oh no. Was it because of him?

“You're alive,” Otabek choked, full of emotion. 

“Obviously,” Yuri mumbled blearily as he tried to figure out why he would be otherwise. 

“Oh, Yuri.” He felt a wet face pressed against his neck, and the trembling arms cradling him rocked his body back and forth. 

“What happened?” he asked, scrunching his eyebrows to try and counter his massive headache. 

“You were buried completely in hair. I thought…” Yuri lifted his weak limbs and wrapped them around his prince’s neck. 

“Thanks for saving me,” he told him quietly. Otabek squeezed him protectively. “Do you have that plan yet?” 

“Yes.”

“Let’s do it.” Yuri was resolute. 

“Are you sure?” Otabek questioned seriously. He seemed worried. “You're still weak.” 

“I'll be fine.” Yuri inhaled a shaky breath, and stood up on the sill. Black spots danced over his vision. He gripped Otabek's shoulder to steady himself. 

“Alright… Wrap your hair around the hook outside the window.” He obeyed. 

“And then?” he asked expectantly, foot nervously tapping. 

“Climb down a little ways.” Yuri clumsily began his descent, grabbing the cut-off hair that had been tied there already. The silky locks were difficult to hold on to, slipping from his grasp. 

“Is this enough?” he called once he'd lowered himself a few feet. 

“Yes.” 

“What now?” 

“Let go on my mark.” 

“What??!!” Yuri exclaimed. 

“Trust me?” Even in the dim moonlight, Otabek looked very earnest and sincere. He wouldn't let anything harm him. Yuri nodded firmly. He would trust this man with his life if he had to. 

“Ready…” Yuri exhaled slowly, preparing himself. His palms were sweating, and his heart was beating like crazy. “Set…” He wondered if this would break his neck. “Go!” Otabek commanded, and Yuri released his grip.

“FUCK!!” he yelled immediately, scalp burning like it was on fire. Through his pain and a string of foul-mouthed obscenities, he recognized that he was dangling by his hair. Otabek had grabbed it about a foot from his head and was holding all of his weight. Instinctively, Yuri tried to tug at the hair to alleviate the pressure. It didn't work. He heard Otabek draw his sword, metal against hardened leather. There was a sharp slicing sound, and he felt the blade as it cut through every strand.

“Grab on. I'm going to let go, alright?” Yuri groped out to find some hair to hold on to. His fingers closed around the locks, and he winced because of how sore his head was. 

“Got it!” He announced, and Otabek gently let the hair float down. It settled around him and he held his breath, pulse racing in trepidation. Would cutting himself off of the hair instead of cutting the hair off of him work? He held his breath, pulse racing in trepidation. Nothing happened, the ends of the tresses innocently brushing against his calves. 

Relief and happiness swelled up inside of him, and tears rolled down his cheeks. His face scrunched up in an unflattering way, and he sobbed. 

“Are you alright? Did it not work? I cannot see you clearly,” Otabek inquired, worry and anticipation laced through his words. 

“It worked! I-It worked…” Yuri's voice broke, but he couldn't care less at that moment. “I want to kiss you!” he demanded, wavering. “Go down!” He began slowly scaling towards the ground, afraid that one wrong move would send his hair growing out of control once more. Wordlessly, Otabek slid off of the window sill and started clambering down as well. He kept looking over his shoulder to be sure that he wasn't about to step on Yuri's hands. 

Yuri got to the bottom, and the feeling of the mossy and dew-dropped grass under his feet made him certain that this was reality. He was rid of the curse at last. Otabek dropped onto the earth with a muffled thud, and was promptly tackle-hugged. He let out a soft grunt, and the two of them sunk to the ground. Yuri peppered his face with kisses over and over again. Otabek lowered himself onto his back; Yuri snuggled up against him, nuzzling his head into the crook of his neck. 

Because he was taller, his barefoot feet stretched farther than Otabek's boots did. Blonde hair blanketed them like the finest silk. Otabek folded Yuri in his arms, gently carding his fingers through the soft strands. Yuri lifted his head so that he could take in those kind eyes that glittered in the moonlight, and the strong jawline that looked as if it had been carved from marble. Otabek gently tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. Yuri placed a hand on his cheek and curled it around the back of his head, stroking the bristly stubble where it had been shaved. 

He sat up, and suddenly became hyper-aware that his legs were straddled around Otabek. Realizing where his pelvis was resting, his face grew hot. Otabek must have realized too, because his eyebrows were furrowed slightly and he'd averted his gaze. His hand was covering his mouth, and shadows obscured whether his cheeks were pink or not. He felt a something pressing softly against his ass. His breath caught in his threat, and excitement rose inside of him. He wanted to… Oh lord. He was sure that his face was crimson. 

Trying to keep from trembling, he slowly began to undo the tiny silver clasps on Otabek's light gray tunic. He had no idea what he was doing, but this seemed like a logical first step. His blood was pumping so quickly that he could hear it in the arteries of his ears. With a click, the last latch was unhooked. There was Otabek laid before him, ebony hair spread around him like spilled ink. His expression was unreadable, and well-muscled chest moved up and down as his lungs expanded and relaxed. His areolas and nipples were dark against the tan canvas of his skin. 

Yuri felt an urge to touch them, but instead set his palms above Otabek's heart. It fluttered like a small bird, and he absolutely radiated heat. Gathering his courage, Yuri let his fingertips trail downwards, over abdominal muscles and to his waistband. Just below, there was a stirring. Desperate to explore it, he was about to loosen the belt when he felt a firm hand around his wrist. His eyes darted up to see Otabek's tormented expression. Guilt stabbed through him, and he released the belt as if he'd been burned. 

Quickly, he scrambled off of Otabek's lap. He felt ill. That had been so foolish. Otabek probably hated him now, and he didn't blame him. Yuri glared off to the side, blinking away tears. Why was he so stupid? Had he just been imagining the whole time that there was something between them? He heard rustling as Otabek sat up, and turned away. 

“Yura…” 

“I'm sorry,” he whispered as he glowered, furious at himself. Otabek touched his chin and guided it so that they were facing each other. 

“I care about you so much, but-” 

“You don't like me in that way?” Yuri guessed bitterly, and his heart sunk miserably. He sniffled, and a teardrop betrayed him by spilling out of his eye.

“No,” Otabek insisted fiercely. “I do.” His features softened slightly. “I am just…” He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I am waiting until marriage,” he finished in a hushed tone, appearing embarrassed. 

“Oh,” was all that Yuri could get out. He collapsed forward, face buried in the greenery as he laid prostrate. His pendant pressed against his ribcage. He groaned, entirely humiliated. He really was an idiot. Otabek rubbed his back in consolation. Yuri gradually raised his head, scowling. The blood flow had begun to get cut off in his hands (they were tucked underneath him, tearing at plants). He sat up, frowning in a not completely serious way. 

Otabek crawled closer so that he was behind him. He picked the bits of grass and clovers out of the golden strands, and then began combing his fingers through. Yuri untensed under the sensation of Otabek's digits sliding through his hair. His face relaxed, and his eyes closed. He'd never really experienced somebody playing with his hair like this. He'd gone from having no hair to too much hair. 

Otabek began to lightly massage his scalp, and he felt like he could melt. Yuri almost let out a purr, but he caught himself just in time. Otabek started weaving tiny braids of the sides of his head, which merged to form larger braids. Finally, all of was in one thick plait. Yuri pulled it over his shoulder and marveled at its complexity. At least five sections had been braided together, reminiscent of a basket. 

“I pray that you did not misunderstand me earlier. Yuri looked back and saw a sincere Otabek. “I feel like I should be clear. I fancy you, Yura,” he stated bluntly. 

“I feel the same,” Yuri whispered, the words getting stuck in his throat. He shifted so that they were facing each other. “Sorry that it took so long to tell you, I was just…” He wrinkled his nose. “Afraid…,” he admitted, eyes lowered. 

“Why?” Otabek prodded gently. 

“I don't know!” Yuri exclaimed, “I was afraid of rejection, I guess. Like I was just imagining things… And afraid…” A sour taste flooded his mouth. “Of my mother.” With an understanding and empathetic expression on his face, Otabek reached out and entertwined their fingers together. 

“We will figure this out, alright? I promise that I will protect you.” ‘It's not my safety that I'm concerned about,’ he thought, then nodded. Otabek kissed his forehead, and then the two laid down together. They snuggled, enjoying each other's warmth. Otabek draped an arm over Yuri, who drifted off into the most peaceful rest he'd had in weeks. They stayed there, sleeping, until the sun dispersed the night shadows and sent them creeping back under their trees. 

Yuri woke up first, and admired how the morning light brought out the chestnut undertones in his prince’s dark hair. It tumbled around him, thick and curled up at the ends. Yuri wondered what he was dreaming about. Birds began chirping up above, wingéd heralds of a new dawn. Dew drops had soaked both of the princes’ clothes. 

Otabek's eyes flickered open, and he seemed surprised for a moment. Gradually his features relaxed as he recalled the events of the previous night. Yuri stretched, and his back cracked. 

“Ow!” He cursed. Otabek's eyes crinkled in mirth, and Yuri frowned at him playfully. He stood, and examined the sundial to see the time. “It's almost breakfast, we need to go.” He sighed, and pushed his hair back. His heart leapt in elation once more and he remembered that the nightmare was over. His grandfather was back, and he couldn't wait to tell him. 

It was then that Otabek got onto his feet. He looked at Yuri, and his brows creased in suspicion. 

“What are you staring at?” Hesitantly, Otabek swallowed. 

“Nothing, I just…” 

“What?” 

“I am probably imagining things, but you look taller.” An uneasy feeling settled in Yuri's stomach as he heard that. Otabek only came up to about his chin now. 

“It's probably nothing. Maybe you're just shorter?” He tried to convince himself that this was true, but it didn't really work. He took Otabek's hand, bit his lip, and tried to shake off the seeping dread. Together, they strode up to the front doors of the castle to face whatever was ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuun~ This is far from over :)  
> How many people actually still read this?


	10. Poudretteite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri's happiness at stopping his hair from growing turns out to be short-lived, as he encounters a different problem that is perhaps worse.

When Otabek and Yuri stepped through the dining room doors holding hands, it was as if the crown princess and the king had been frozen in time. Their forks were held midway between the table and their mouths, jaws parted in shock. Their eyes were widened as well. 

Yuri swallowed, and felt Otabek gently squeeze his hand. The pair of them walked forward and seated themselves near Nikolai at the long table. Gaining his composure, he cleared his throat lightly. 

“So… I see you've broken the curse.” 

“Yes.” Yuri relaxed a bit as the words escaped him, offering a smile. He was still so relieved that he didn't have to deal with miles of hair. Silence fell, uncomfortable and thick. He drew in a long breath, then released it shakily. He lifted his chin. 

“Allow me to introduce Prince Otabek Altin. He is the one that figured out how to stop my hair from growing.” A self-conscious rosy pink spread over Otabek’s cheeks. Nikolai reached over and shook his hand warmly, eyes soft. 

“Thank you.” 

“It was no trouble,” Otabek assured, head bowed humbly. 

“Might I ask, how did you do it?” 

“Well, Your Majesty, you have always cut the hair off of the prince, so I cut the prince off of the hair.” Nikolai nodded, but Yuri detected a touch of anxiety in his worn face. Yuri felt the feeling mirrored in his belly. He was uneasy, although he hoped that nothing was wrong. 

He dared to shoot a glance over in his mother's direction. Her eye was twitching, and her jaw was clenched. Her shaking fist was clenched around her knife, almost like a weapon. She was no doubt livid that her plot to get a marriage out of this situation had been foiled. ‘Ha.’ 

With a smirk, Yuri returned his attention back to his grandfather, who was already deep in a conversation about trade policies with Otabek. It warmed his heart that they were getting along so well. Servants swiftly brought Otabek a plate of food (Yuri's had been placed out before he'd arrived), and he ate it very neatly and politely. 

The crown princess, rather uncharacteristically, didn't say a word throughout the entire course of the meal. Yuri had been afraid that she would berate him for holding hands with Otabek, but her quietness was far more disturbing. 

When they were all finished eating they slowly stood, stuffed with delicious food. Yuri looked down at the three of them, heart hammering in terror. For he was now standing at nine feet tall. 

“I was afraid that this would happen,” Nikolai remarked sadly. Otabek looked at Yuri, helplessness creeping into his expression. “When we cut the hair off of him, it grows; when we cut him off of the hair, he grows.” 

Yuri just kept on growing and growing. By the time lunch was being served, he could no longer fit through the door and had to have his food brought outside to him. The plates were tiny, and the meal wasn't nearly enough to fill his stomach.

Additionally, his clothes had not grown along with him. So there he sat in the moss, nearly as tall as a tree, without anything covering his body. It was chilly out, and goosebumps the size of eggs popped up on his flesh. 

Although he tried to hold back his tears, he started sobbing angrily and distraught. How could he have dared to hope that his torment was over? A pool of tears was quickly forming in the garden, so he did his best to stop weeping so that nobody would drown. 

Otabek stayed with him the whole time, sitting on his hand and hugging his index finger comfortingly. But Yuri was scared that he would crush him on accident, so he gingerly set him down on the very windowsill that he had jumped from only the night before. 

Yuri still continued to get larger and larger, and it seemed like every hour his rate of growth was quintupling. The palace grounds were soon too small to contain him, so he trod as carefully as he could to the countryside. He sat down on a hill, hair (which was still intricately braided) draped over the grass like a river of pure gold.

Yuri prayed that Otabek and his grandfather were doing alright. The last thing he wanted was for them to worry about him. Maybe Nikolai was sending a letter to his fairy godmother, asking for advice. Hopefully someone would remember to feed Potya.

As Yuri sat there, mulling over what he should do, he heard a faint sound. Wondering what it could be, he gradually raised himself to his feet and began walking in the direction of it. It was difficult to breathe because he was so tall. The noise got louder, seeming like the clamoring of a crowd of people or a hive of bees. 

In the distance, Yuri could see dozens of dark shapes that looked like a colony of ants. He realized, with a flash of rage, that they had come by the sea to invade his country. Had Yuri been feeling less chivalrous, he could have simply stomped on the enemy soldiers. (He certainly wanted to. How dare they?) 

However, that would certainly not be a fair fight. Therefore, he scooped them up in handfuls and set them back onto their ships. He tried not to squish any of them, but it was very difficult while they were squirming around.  
Yuri then flicked the boats one by one, and they shot off at a remarkable speed. With luck, they wouldn't stop until they reached their home land. (Or a land entirely foreign from their own, his aim could've been off a bit.) He smiled wryly at the thought of the men recounting their harrowing experience with a nude giant. Surely, they would leave his kingdom alone after what happened to them. 

Suddenly, Yuri felt the earth tremoring beneath him. It was as if the whole continent was shivering and groaning under his weight. Craters had started to develop where his feet were, and so he stepped into the ocean. The freezing water lapped at his bare ankles, and he remembered the dream he'd had only the previous night. 

The sun had begun to descend, and the sky had become orange and pink and violet. A whole day had passed, and he was still growing. Yuri sobbed in frustration, fervently hoping that this was just a cruel nightmare. All that he wanted was the be his regular size again, with a normal hair length. Was that too much to ask? 

Most of all, he desired to hold Otabek close to him and… No. Marriage would be impossible for the two of them. It would seem that their relationship was doomed, wasn't it? The crown princess was probably scheming up at that very moment a way to ensure that Yuri was wed to a princess with good breeding, and a way to make sure that he never saw his sweetheart prince again. 

Tears blurred Yuri's vision, dripping into the sea. He mused that it didn't matter how much water you added to the ocean; it would still appear the same. Lifting his eyes to the heavens, he gazed at the crescent moon and silver stars. The celestial bodies looked clearer and closer than he had ever seen them, and he wondered how soon it would be before he knocked his head against them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many crazy things happening! Also, angst next chapter~ I'd love to get feedback ^^ It helps to motivate me. Also, sorry this took so long! I've been working on a fic for a bang.


	11. Petal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri finds a solution to his height problem, but a more foreboding one arises.

Although Yuri was fatigued, he had nowhere to rest and fall asleep. And so he was forced to bear with his tiredness and stay awake; if he dozed off, there was a chance that he could crush the whole kingdom. His eyes kept drifting closed as if they had gold coins weighing them down, so he kept slapping his face harshly to try and keep them open. It worked somewhat as a short-term solution, but he couldn’t stave off sleep forever. He desperately needed a panacea, and fast.

The frigid temperature wasn’t helping either. Yuri unbraided his hair (he was rather sad to do so, recalling fondly how tenderly Otabek had woven the plaits), and wrapped it around himself like a thick blanket. It wasn’t enough to protect him from the bitter sea winds, but it did help a little. 

Enveloped in his own silky locks, Yuri began to form an idea of how to fix this awful development. He was willing to bet that if he cut his hair off, he would shrink down again. It didn’t solve the hair problem, but at least he wouldn’t be larger than a mountain any longer. He quickly became stumped, given that there was nothing sharp that was vast enough to saw off his hair.

Yuri wished that he had scissors. Any old pair. Even those “magic” ones that he had tried to break the curse with before would do. 

No sooner than he had thought that, he felt something heavy and metal materialize in his grasp. He raised the object and examined it in the dim light shining down from the firmament. In his hand rested a giant pair of shears, their chipped blades gleaming softly. The very ones that hadn’t been able to stop his hair from growing. 

Yuri stared at them in shock, wondering if this was a cruel vision or a dream. But once he pinched himself and didn’t snap out of it or wake up, he knew that this was reality. Hadn’t the man who sold them to Otabek said that the scissors formed a bond with the person whose hair they’d last cut? Perhaps this is what that had meant, although Yuri could think of very few situations (aside from his present one) where teleporting scissors would be useful. 

Still, this felt almost like a blessing. Yuri stepped as near to land as he could without crushing anything, then open and closed the scissors in the air experimentally a few times. Glaring determinedly, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for whatever happened next. He gathered up his hair, shivering from being exposed to the elements once more, then positioned the open blades around the golden tresses. 

It took quite some time for him to ferociously chop off the tail, but eventually it was severed. At first, the rate of his getting smaller was almost unnoticeable. But then it quickly picked up speed at a dizzyingly rate. Looking up, he observed that the stars looked a lot farther off than before. Even though everything was spinning, he still attempted to walk closer to the shore during his descent. 

Before he knew it, he was his own size again and treading water. He turned around and gaped at his hair, quickly sinking into the depths of the ocean. It was almost unfathomable that he had been so enormous. His truncated hair was massive enough to act as a shroud for his entire country, as well as the next one over. He lowered his gaze and saw that the scissors remained clutched in his hand. The water was so, so cold, and he shivered. 

Out of nowhere, vertigo crashed down on him. He couldn’t keep his balance, and his head jerked forward. A tsunami of nausea rolled over him, and he vomited gastric acid into the ocean. Once his dry heaving had ceased, and he had regained a modicum of equilibrium, he splashed saltwater on his face to clean it. 

He took the shears and gripped them in his teeth so that his hands were free to stroke through the water as he swam. 

To Yuri’s despair, his hair was already growing at the same speed that it had been before. Back at square one. It was a struggle to stay afloat with all of the extra weight, nevertheless attempt to swim all the way to the shore (which seemed impossibly far away). 

After hours and hours, he finally made it to the port. His aching arms and legs felt like they were going to drop off of him. It sapped what little energy he had remaining just to haul himself onto a dock. He laid there, gasping for breath. The night air felt biting on his wet, bare body. 

There wasn’t even enough strength left in him to stand up. Resting his cheek against the rough boards, his strained breathing eventually steadied and his eyes fluttered closed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Yuri awoke to a wizened old fisherman nudging his shoulder. 

“What?” he demanded blearily, still half-asleep. His body felt as if it had been ground up by a mill and then crudely pieced back together again. The man helped him to his feet, but his legs immediately gave out from underneath him. 

“You’re the prince, aren’t you?” Yuri, slumped against the wiry fisherman as he tried his best to walk, could only make out a cross and dismal groan in response. For decency’s sake, the man provided him with his cloak. Yuri’s arms were too limp to tie it up properly, so the fisherman took pity on him and did it for him before helping him get a ride to the palace. 

And so Yuri rode in the back of a cart that was delivering hay. His hair grew at the same rate that they were bouncing along, maybe faster, so they left a trail of cornsilk blonde in their wake. Yuri was absolutely miserable. All that he wanted was to hold Otabek again, and every second that he wasn’t was like torture. 

The hay kept making him sneeze; his skin became red, puffy, and itchy. He felt like a rag doll, smacking against the bottom and sides of the cart bed with every rock and pothole they encountered. He was too defeated to fight the jostling, so he just glowered quietly. 

Rolling hill after rolling hill passed by, and Yuri tried to see if he recognized any of the landscape from when he had been colossal sized. However, the sea of grass and wildflowers and cattle looked identical no matter where they went. They could have been travelling in circles, as far as Yuri could tell. 

The trip lasted an entire day, and it was sunset when they arrived at the outskirts of the town. What felt like an eternity later, the cart-driver dropped Yuri off at the castle. Yuri thanked him weakly. He banged on the door with the weighty gold-plated knocker, as raindrops started to fall. He chopped off his hair and quickly shoved it down the back of his cloak so that he could pull the hood up. He waited for someone to come and let him in as the rain dumped from the sky in a barrage. Quickly, he was completely drenched. The cold felt like it soaked all the way to the bone, and being practically naked certainly wasn’t helping. 

Some prince he was, bedraggled and wearing nothing but a mantle, standing in the midst of a torrential downpour. Goosebumps popped up all all over Yuri’s flesh, and his teeth started to chatter. His sore legs quit their job, and he slid to the muddy ground. Feebly, he pounded a fist on the door. The other still held the scissors. 

At last, a person came and allowed him entrance. She apologized profusely, saying that the servant who’d had the shift before hers had fallen ill and not sent for a replacement. Ordinarily, Yuri would have been livid. However, at this point he was simply too numb to care. 

The maid set him down by a fire in a cozy chair and gave him clothes to change into, then left to fetch some food. It took quite a while for Yuri’s shivering to stop, but with fresh garments that weren’t soaked, as well as his piles of hair acting as insulation, he was able to recover a bit. 

The maid returned with a silver tray bearing warm milk and leftovers from supper. Although his belly was rumbling, Yuri only had one question on his mind. 

“Where is Otabek Altin?” The servant looked at him blankly for a second, puzzled. 

“Oh!” She set the platter down on a side table. “My mistress told me yesterday that he had left.” When he processed this, Yuri's heart jolted. 

“What?” 

“Yes, your mother didn't give a reason as to why he had gone, just told me that he did. That was after I inquired if I should prepare a room for him.” Yuri stared at her, lips parted, then furrowed his brow. 

“Why would he do that?” The question wasn't really posed at anyone in particular, but they maid answered anyway. 

“Why, I surely do not know.” Yuri turned his attention to the flames and watched as they crackled and rose, just like the panic inside of his chest. There was something not right about this situation. Perhaps Otabek had left a note? Yuri had a horrible feeling that he hadn't, although he clung to the hope that he had. Otherwise, why would Otabek just take off and leave out of the blue? Did Otabek not care for him anymore? No...

It was only when the servant cleared her throat that Yuri realized she was still standing there. Absentmindedly, he thanked and dismissed her. His stomach was tied in uneasy knots, and he could barely force himself to swallow a bite. Something was dreadfully wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done! A thanks to Eclair for beta help, and to Izzy for being supportive as always. <3 Thanks for sticking with me, this journey is almost to its close.
> 
> Eclair's ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuples
> 
> Izzy's: http://archiveofourown.org/users/IzzyBee92/pseuds/IzzyBee92


	12. Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri and one of the guards discover where the crown princess has been going everyday; Yuri is horrified.

As it turned out, Otabek had not left a note. It was like he'd vanished with a trace. Not a single person that Yuri had asked had seen him leave. Going away without notice was so out of character for Otabek that Yuri had a strong suspicion that foul play had been involved, although he prayed that that wasn't true. Yuri sent out scouts to see if they could find Otabek, but all of them returned without so much as a lead. 

One of them located his sister, however, who was in the care of her nursemaid at a high-end inn. Rather distressed, she told Yuri that she hadn't even seen Otabek since the day he'd disappeared. He had visited her to tell her that he would be staying at the castle until Yuri became his normal size again. Yuri had gone back to the palace, feeling hopeless. It seemed that he hadn't discovered anything but frustrating dead ends. 

Nikolai was ecstatic that his grandson had returned, and tried his best to console him. It wasn't enough, and both of them knew it. Yuri needed Otabek back. 

Yuri's mother kept smirking, as if she was holding a secret. And Yuri was sure that she was. It was like she was mocking him. "I know where your precious prince is, but I'll never tell you," her condescending eyes seemed to say. Yuri demanded her to tell him what she knew of Otabek's "departure," but all she did was spout the same, thin lie. 

"He told me that he had urgent business, and then left." After this, she always waved her hand dismissively. It was absolutely infuriating. She was fully aware that Yuri knew she had done something to Otabek, but relished the fact that he didn't have any proof. 

Every day, the crown princess disappeared in the afternoon for about an hour. Yuri was 100 percent sure that her new habit had something to do with Otabek's absence. He wanted to follow her to find out where she was going, but it wasn't easy to be stealthy or make a quick escape with a trail of hair behind him. He considered his options for quite some time, knowing that every day he had to wait was more time that something terrible could be being done to Otabek. His love was somewhere, probably miserable and all alone, and Yuri felt completely helpless. 

Eventually, he called a member of his personal guard over to him. He knew it was risky to involve someone that could be captured, but she was probably the most capable person for the task. She was a lady of great determination, although Yuri would never admit that he thought that to her face. To pass the crown princess' regulations for who was accepted into the guard, she disguised herself as a male. Yuri didn't know her motivation for doing so, but he suspected that it was simply because she wanted to, was told that she couldn't, and then took it as a challenge. 

Anyone who knew her at all had found out her secret, but she didn't care. Whenever Yuri's mom rolled around, she stood with her legs further apart, clenched her jaw to make it seem more angular, and spoke with a comically terrible "man impression," as she called it. Miraculously, the crown princess never seemed to notice. 

The guard's real name was Ludmila, although her alias was Aleksandr. She was nice, but Yuri tended to avoid her because she liked to tease him. On the nights that his mother sent him to bed without any dinner, Mila snuck him some food. She was the only person that Yuri could think of to spy for him. 

When he asked her to tail his mother without getting caught, she didn't agree immediately like he had hoped. 

"Huh? If she caught me, I don't think she would be thrilled." 

"Please, I need you to do this," Yuri replied with gritted teeth. 

"Whyyy?" Mila was casually leaning against a wall. Yuri sighed. He had no choice other than to tell her about his relationship with Otabek, and what he feared had transpired to him. He begrudgingly did so, keeping his explanation intentionally vague. 

"Aww, Yuri." She rested her arm on his shoulder and ruffled his hair. 

"Shut up, hag!" He glared down at her, and shook her off. She pursed her lips, feigning injury. 

"You're not speaking like someone that wants help." Yuri lowered his gaze and looked off to the side, guilt churning in his belly. If Mila wasn't so good-natured, his brashness could have compromised the plan. "Hey, relax." Mila squeezed his shoulder, then smiled. "I'll do it for you. On one condition." 

"What is it?" Yuri inquired warily. 

"Give me your desserts for a month." She had a mischievous grin on her face. 

"What?!" Yuri asked incredulously. He'd expected her to require something of actual value. Mila snorted and laughed. 

"I'm serious, I'm not doing extra labor for free." Yuri scowled and rolled his eyes. 

"Fine." Pastries were trifles compared with Otabek's worth. In fact, Yuri probably would have traded his own life for his sweetheart's. 

At first, Mila came up empty-handed. Her early attempts to follow the crown princess were all thwarted. She'd trailed her to the dungeons several times, but Mila would peek around the corner she was hiding behind to find that Yuri's mother had vanished into thin air. Desperate, Yuri pleaded with her to keep trying. Mila told him to never worry, for her desire for fine confections was strong. (Yuri suspected that she actually did care.) 

Eventually, Mila caught the crown princess slipping through a doorway that had suddenly appeared on the wall. Mila hadn't dared to follow her in, but she clearly remembered where the secret entrance was and how to get there, she said. 

Not wanting to waste a moment, Yuri decided that they would go that very night. Mila agreed to guide him, and the they met in the gardens (where Yuri was forced to sleep now that no room in the castle could contain all of his hair). They tiptoed throughout the castle, Yuri's hair slithering behind them. They were forced to pass by the crown princess' room on their way to the dungeon, and it took several minutes for them to slip past without any noise. Thankfully, any sound they made was drowned out by her loud snoring. 

They made their way to the lower floors, the sconces bearing torches that lit their way. It was so strange to walk around the castle at night. It felt like an entirely different place. It was so quiet that anytime either of them shifted a pebble with their foot, it sounded like thunder and they both cringed. The hallways seemed more vast and foreboding, the firelight flickering ominously. When Yuri was a child, he had been terrified of the palace at night. It was so empty and quiet, and he was always afraid that malicious spirits were lurking in the shadows. Even now, he was glad that Mila was with him, although he would never admit that. 

They reached the door that lead down to the dungeon, and both stared at it in silence. Yuri took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and furrowed his brow in determination before grabbing the handle and pulling it. The heavy wooden door squeaked terribly as he opened it. Beside Yuri, Mila lit a candle. Together, they entered the dark tunnel. 

"Oh, watch your step," Mila mentioned just as Yuri tripped. He caught his balance with the grimy stone wall, then glared at her. 

"You didn't think to say anything sooner?" Mila shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. Yuri growled under his breath, then picked his way down the steps. Because his hair was growing faster than he could walk, he kept nearly tripping over it. At the bottom of the stairs, the passage veered off to the left at a slight decline. 

The pair of them went along it, and soon came to a split. Mila pursed her lips for a moment, skin looking golden in the candlelight, then announced, 

"This way!" and turned right. They made another right and two lefts, going deeper underground with every step. They continued for some time like this, winding down moldering passageways. They passed by many empty cells, and Yuri could hear unseen rats scuttling along the cold floor. Growing impatient, Yuri asked, 

"Are you sure you know where we're going?" 

"Yes, of course!" Well, even if she didn't, Yuri supposed they could always follow the path his hair had left. They stopped at a spot where the path diverged at ninety degree angles to the right and left. Mila felt along the wall in front of them. "I'm sure the lever is around here somewhere..." she murmured. Yuri wasn't sure if she was talking to him or herself. 

He waited there for a good ten minutes, arms crossed and tapping his foot. Mila kept poking the wall. To think that Otabek could be on the other side of it, in pain, and not being able to locate a damn lever was keeping them apart. Finally, Mila sighed. 

"Oh, I have no clue where it is!" She leaned against the wall dramatically. Nothing happened. "Huh, that's usually supposed to work." 

"Enough of this!" Yuri hissed, pushing her aside. He punched the wall angrily, and a hidden door swung open. Ignoring the pulsing in his bleeding hand, he ran into the room. Immediately he was overcome with hot, musty air that smelled of vomit and blood. He felt like throwing up himself, but fought the urge. There were no torches within, only blackness. Mila entered, and her candle illuminated a table bearing numerous nasty weapons and contraptions. Yuri's blood turned cold, and his heart began to race. 

Hands shaking, he snatched the candle holder from Mila and stumbled forward, fear gripping his body. When Yuri saw what the light fell upon, he inhaled sharply and dropped it. The candle and its receptacle hit the ground with a clatter, and Mila dove for it. She was barely able to save the flame before it went out. 

But Yuri barely registered that. Furious tears were streaming down his face. There was Otabek, naked and tied to a wooden table with thick rope. Yuri rushed to his side, and carded his love's sweaty hair off of his forehead. Otabek groaned, eyelids fluttering deliriously. Yuri sobbed, and his eyes flicked down to see the extent of the damage. He covered his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, shuddering. He gagged, just barely managing not to purge the contents of his stomach. 

Mila drew nearer, and he heard her gasp. She quickly regained some composure. 

"Yuri, help me untie him," she commanded with a slight waver. He obeyed, trying his best to undo the knots wound around Otabek's wrists. His fingers quickly became raw on the rough rope, and he broke a nail. Eventually the bonds came loose, and he threw them aside. Otabek's wrists were bleeding, and his hands were purple. Those hands were the very same ones that had held his own mere weeks before, although it felt like years. 

Yuri gently interlocked their fingers, and Otabek weakly grasped back. His eyes opened momentarily, staring briefly into Yuri's. A tear trickled down his dirt-smudged cheek, jaw slack. 

"I'm so sorry," Yuri whispered, mouth twisting as he cried. A rumble came from Otabek's threat, as if he was trying to speak. Mila finished untying Otabek's legs, then looked up. 

"We can't move him in this condition. I need you to watch and protect him while I get help." Yuri swallowed, nodding. Mila left, leaving the candle behind. Afraid of hurting Otabek, Yuri released his hand and knelt beside him. He buried his face in his hands and wept. 

This was all his fault. If he had just married one of those dim-witted princesses like his mother wanted, then none of this would have happened. It should be him on that table, not kind-hearted and brave Otabek. Yuri couldn't bear to look up and be reminded of what he had caused. The seared brand marks on Otabek's inner thighs. The split skin from harsh whippings, now scabbing and brimming with yellow pus. And the... Yuri could hardly bear to think about all of the marring gashes, beaded with dark blood and staining the table. 

He heard a scuffling sound outside of the door, and thought that it was Mila. But then, heavy dread settled in his bones. It was far too soon for her to have returned. Perhaps a rat? He knew that that wasn't true. 

"Look what you've done, Yuratchka," a familiar voice broke through the silence coldly, and Yuri froze. A shiver shot down his spine, even though the room was muggy. His heart began to hammer in his rib cage. "I tried so hard to discourage you, and you still went against my wishes." With a terrible, sick terror in his belly, Yuri whipped around to see the crown princess at the doorway, a pleased smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! Stick with me lol. I was thinking one more chapter, but this one is so long that it might be two now.
> 
> Let me know what you thought! I've been feeling really down lately.
> 
> Ps~ New Break a Butterfly chapter really soon, if you like that one! 
> 
> Thanks to Izzy <3 <3 I appreciate you!


	13. Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loose ends are tied up, and our story comes to a close.

“What the fuck did you do to him?” Yuri cried, voice breaking in the middle. The crown princess laughed. 

“Only what he deserved.” 

“How could he have deserved this?” Yuri sobbed angrily. 

“You know perfectly well that a man cannot truly love another man. All he was trying to do was ruin my plans for your marriage.” Yuri shook his head fiercely. 

“No!” He thought of Otabek’s gentle smile, his caring nature, his bravery and protectiveness. And then to the feeling he had whenever they were together. It just felt… right. That warm, fluttery emotion that had started as a tiny caterpillar was now a full-fledged butterfly. 

His mother selected a knife from the table and eyed it with a sly grin. 

“Say, Yutatchka…” she practically purred. Fearfully, Yuri spread out his arms to guard Otabek. “I’ll offer you a deal.” His heart began to pound even faster than it already was. “If you admit that you never loved him, marry a princess of my choosing, and never see him again, then I’ll allow him to live.” 

For a moment, Yuri thought that any chance to save Otabek’s life was one that he would have to take. But then he saw the craftly look in his mother’s eyes, and knew that it was a lie. She was planning on killing Otabek regardless. 

“Never,” he spat, and dove for the first weapon he could lay his hands on. His hand closed on the handle of a knife with a curved, carving blade. The crown princess tried to grab him, but she wasn’t fast enough. He leapt back and assumed a fighting stance. 

“So that’s how you want to play it, huh?” she asked, aquamarine eyes wild. Yuri gritted his teeth, muscles taut and prepared for a fight. “Very well.” She lunged at him, but he easily blocked the attack and caught her by surprise with a kick to the stomach. She stumbled, but quickly regained her footing and came at him again. 

“Just give up, this is all your fault anyway,” she hissed. Yuri's guilt surged, threatening to drown him. It made him hesitate for a second, and his mother managed to stab his left shoulder. He yelled in pain. He used the piercing, raw agony to drive himself forward. Adrenaline began to pump through his system, and he was able to push his mother back with a roar. She was never going to hurt Otabek again. She hit the door as she was backing up, and screamed with rage. 

Blindly, she tried to plunge the bloody blade into Yuri. 

“I had your future perfectly planned so that you could be happy!”

“I never would have been happy that way!” Yuri parried. The crown princess’ movements were uncoordinated and unfocused, and she had plenty of weak spots. Yuri managed to impale her thigh. She howled in pain and rushed at him, groping fingers resembling claws. She tripped over Yuri's hair and fell to her knees. Yuri pressed his back against the table as she desperately crawled forward. A dark spot was growing on her white, lacy nightgown. 

She was spitting obscenities that were very improper for a lady of her rank, and Yuri kicked her in the face when she neared him. The boot hit her with a satisfying sound, and she collapsed to the floor. She tried to get up again, but every time she got too close she received a blow. She staggered to her feet, hair askew and breathing heavily, as if she was about to make a final attempt. 

It was just then that Mila burst into the room with an entourage of fellow guards and a nurse. The guards wrangled the crown princess’ hands behind her back and cuffed them. She thrashed and twisted like a fish out of water, yelling the whole time. After she was dragged out of the room, her voice echoed throughout the passageways and eventually faded out of earshot. 

Yuri’s shoulders sagged, and he whirled around to be sure that Otabek hadn’t been further harmed somehow. He kissed his forehead gently. 

“You’re going to be alright,” he choked out, smiling in relief as he sobbed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

The crown princess was thrown into one of the deepest cells in the dungeon, charged with the kidnapping and torture of an allied prince. She barely survived the wound Yuri had inflicted on her leg, although nobody was really pleased about this fact. King Nikolai was shocked that his daughter would go that far, but Yuri wasn’t. Mila was promoted, and she enjoyed her well-deserved desserts. Yuri's shoulder healed up, leaving a scar that he thought looked pretty impressive. 

Otabek was transported to the hospital wing, where he received urgent care. Yuri visited him as often as possible, and tried to fight nurses who wouldn't let them in. Otabek's condition became stable and gradually improved. 

“When I was… down there, your mother told me that I would never see you again,” Otabek admitted quietly. The two of them were lying together in the hospital bed, which the nurse would berate Yuri for if she caught him. Yuri snuggled into Otabek, taking care not to touch his wounds. Nobody would ever dare to hurt his prince again. “She said that you never loved me at all,” Otabek continued, brows furrowed. 

“Of course that’s not true!” Yuri kissed his cheek. “I love you so much.” He nestled his head against Otabek’s shoulder.  
“I love you too,” Otabek told him softly. Yuri looked up to meet his warm eyes, filled with happiness, and that kind smile that he loved so much. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Amidst everything that was happening, King Nikolai sent another letter to his fairy godmother by way of flying fish. Soon, an eagle ray returned with a letter tied to its tail. It read, 

“Dear Nikolai, my deepest apologies that I haven’t been replying to your correspondences. I have been away on a long trip. Why not try scales?” 

At first, nobody knew what she had meant. Did she mean fish scales? But then one day, when Yuri was sitting on Otabek’s bed, Otabek figured it out. 

“I believe that she was referring to the type of scales used to weight objects.” Yuri knew instantly that he was correct, and felt very foolish for not coming to that conclusion by himself. “So, we would put you in one scale, and your hair in the other,” Otabek explained. His eyes were narrowed in thought. “And then when they are balanced… we cut it perfectly down the middle.” 

“And then we wouldn’t be cutting the hair off of me or cutting me off of the hair?” Yuri finished. Otabek nodded slowly, seeming to still be mulling it over. 

“And neither you or your hair should grow.” 

For a single moment, Yuri’s heart felt light. If this worked, he could be free of the curse at last. But then he thought of all the failed attempts they had made, and his spirits plummeted again. 

“What if both grew,” Yuri muttered, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. It felt completely hopeless. 

“Do not speak that way,” Otabek insisted firmly. He placed a hand onto Yuri’s cheek, and Yuri’s eyes flitted up to meet Otabek’s intense gaze. He gave a small, grateful smile and leaned into Otabek’s touch. “Will you at least try this?” Otabek asked gently. 

“Yes,” Yuri replied, beginning to feel determined. He squeezed Otabek’s hand. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

For the next few weeks, workers constructed a massive set of scales that were covered in gold leaf. They were hung on a thick branch of a big, strong oak tree in the palace gardens. They waited there, unused, for some time after their completion. Yuri wanted Otabek to be the one to break the curse, but he wasn’t well enough to walk yet. 

Until then, Yuri carried on as usual. He brought Potya to visit Otabek, read books to him, braided his hair, and gave him lots of little gifts to make him smile. He always made sure that there were fresh roses on Otabek’s night stand. Deep red ones, like the kind Otabek had brought him after the white rose tree had been cut down. 

To Yuri’s delight, Otabek got stronger and healthier with every passing day. Eventually, the time came that he was able to walk a good distance. With the nurse’s reluctant permission, Yuri helped Otabek get dressed. He guided a hobbling Otabek through the halls and towards the gardens. It was slow going, and even with his assistance, Otabek was struggling to walk. 

“We can always go back,” Yuri told him, concerned. But Otabek simply shook his head, eyes determined. Yuri tenderly picked him up and carried him the rest of the way. Otabek didn’t protest. 

Down underneath the boughs of the oak tree, Yuri’s grandfather and Mila were waiting for them. Yuri gingerly set Otabek down, and Nikolai took his arm for support. Yuri then kissed both of their cheeks, and then made his way towards the scales. Teasingly, Mila fluttered her eyelashes and pointed to her own cheek, but Yuri frowned at her playfully and said, 

“I’ll pass.” He settled into one of the scales. His cape draped around his body, the same color as the ruby-colored roses in Otabek’s room. 

“Are you sure you can do this?” Nikolai asked Otabek, who responded with a resolute “Yes.” He drew his sword and held it at the ready. Mila took out her silver knife and it flashed as she sliced off Yuri’s hair, which began to grow terrifyingly fast. Acting quickly, she grabbed it and packed it into the other scale. As the golden locks grew, the scale slowly sank. Otabek watched attentively, completely focused. Yuri waited in trepidation, heart pounding. 

With a sudden surge of strength, he raised the sword. Just before the two scales were equally balanced, he brought the blade down right in the center. By the time it took for the sword to hit the hair, the tresses grew just enough that it cut through exactly when the scales were the same weight. A slicing sound tore through the air, and Otabek fell to his knees as soon as the deed was done. 

Mila and Nikolai rushed to help Otabek to his feet. All of them held their breath in anticipation. Yuri cautiously swung his legs over the lip of the scale. His bare toes touched the grass, and then he stood. The other scale bumped to the ground, and Yuri tentatively looked behind him. His hair swung innocently around his ankles. It wasn’t growing anymore, and neither was he. 

He sobbed, relief washing over him, and all of the weight on his shoulders melted away. He stumbled over to embrace the people he cared about most in the world, crying tears of joy. At last, he was free of the golden chains that had bound him. His grandfather and Mila both gave him an extra hug, then walked back down the path to the palace. Mila looked over her shoulder and winked at him. Ordinarily Yuri would have yelled or glared at her, but nothing could sway his elation. 

Otabek laid down on the lush grass, and Yuri joined him. The dew soaked both of their clothes. Yuri laughed, feeling like he could fly, and kissed Otabek a hundred times. His lips became chapped, but he couldn’t care less. 

“Will you marry me?” Otabek asked, flushing. Yuri was frozen for a moment as he processed those words. Then, tears started sliding down his cheeks. 

“O-Otabek!” he hiccupped, and buried his face in his prince’s chest. He could hear his elevated heartbeat. 

“Is that a yes?” Otabek questioned, sounding slightly amused. 

“Yes!” Yuri wailed. This was the happiest he had ever felt in his entire life. Here he was, the curse broken, and engaged to the person he loved the most in the whole world. He never thought that this could happen to him, and there had been times where he thought he would never be truly happy again. 

Yuri laughed as he wept, and Otabek tenderly tucked his hair behind his ear. They looked into each other's eyes, and Yuri's heart sang. He closed his eyes and leaned in for another kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~

While Yuri wanted to hold the wedding the very next day, Otabek needed more time to recover. So instead, the ceremony was planned for a month after the proposal. It was a rather small affair. Nikolai, Mila, and Otabek's sister attended, as well as Nikolai's fairy godmother. (No other fairies were invited; luckily, the events of the christening were not repeated.) There were a few other guests, including the kind maid that had let Yuri in when it was raining. 

Yuri was dressed in aquamarine clothing with shimmering golden embroidery in sunflowers and broad leaves. It matched the pendant that he was wearing, the one Otabek had given him so long ago. Otabek had braided his hair in intricate patterns. Tiny plaits were woven together, looping and crossing over one another. The rest of it hung loose in a soft, shiny, straight curtain. It was rather short in comparison to what Yuri had grown used to, only falling near the floor and brushing against the backs of his boots. Sunflowers adorned his hair, massive and as yellow as sunshine.

Otabek had a wreath of red and white roses around his neck, and a white hat in the style of his home country was atop his head. He had on a regal shapan that was the color of snow, with golden roses stitched into it. Yuri had braided his hair as well (although he wasn't as good at it) and it had been done into a thick braid that swished gracefully whenever he moved. 

Their ceremony was simple, yet moving. They didn't do it in the church, for it was forbidden, but instead in the gardens under the throne room window, where the white rose tree used to be. Yuri preferred it immensely to the church anyway. 

Everything had fallen into place. As he looked into Otabek's eyes, saw his cheeks blushing in happiness, he knew that this was the way that things were meant to be. It all felt like a dream, under the dappled light filtering down through the tree branches. 

In his dazed euphoria, he had a stray thought of how his mother’s foolish actions to make him “presentable” for marriage to a princess only eventually led to his union with another prince. If she hadn't made that fateful wish, they would never had met at all. 

Yuri and Otabek wiped away happy tears and couldn't stop smiling throughout the entire wedding. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Otabek ended up moving to Yuri’s country, and the bond between the two allowed the nations to form an even stronger alliance. When King Nikolai passed, Otabek was there to comfort Yuri. Yuri ascended to the throne alongside his love, taking on the mantle of reign. The two ruled the land in fairness and benevolence for many years. They adopted several children (none of which were considered legitimate heirs under the church’s law, but that's a story for another time), and they loved their parents very dearly. 

Now, this is normally the part where the author would say, “And they all lived happily ever after.” But to write that would mean that Otabek and Yuri never countered another trial again. And while this tale certainly has some fantastical aspects to it, that is simply unrealistic. Because, is life without hardships much of a life at all? 

Yuri and Otabek encountered testing times, but they overcame them together and emerged on the other side with a stronger bond. There were good times too, and they outweighed the bad ones. There was a long war with invaders from the sea, but they were victorious in the end.

While Otabek's hair grew thin and gray and dull, Yuri's stayed thick and golden and gleaming. When Otabek passed, it fell out in sheaves. Yuri died a week later from heart problems, but there was a smile on his face because he knew that he would be with his love again.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much!! All your support kept me going all this time. After seven months, this thing is finished. When I started, I never thought I would make it. Big thanks to Izzy, I love you!! <3
> 
> If you see any spelling errors, let me know ^^
> 
> If you liked this, you should check out my other otayuri story, "Rosy Skies."  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/11956731

**Author's Note:**

> So happy to put this up! :D I hope you guys like it~ It's based on the fairytale "Melisande." Also- if any of the Russian folklore is inaccurate, please tell me so I can improve it.
> 
> This has elements of Russian folklore, but is not set in Russia. It's in a fictional country. 
> 
> Spectrometon did some cute art for me! Go check it out~  
> https://spectrometon.tumblr.com/image/160550911427
> 
>  
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr, I love to talk. https://joelsweet.tumblr.com


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